


The Blighted Journey

by WinterOcelot



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragon Age Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Characters, elf Sombra, half-elf Moira, mage Mercy, qunari Genji, qunari Hanzo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterOcelot/pseuds/WinterOcelot
Summary: Darkspawn soldiers make themselves known in the lands of Ferelden. Warden-Commander Gabriel knows that this means the beginning of the  Blight, and that it's up to him and his Grey Wardens to end it.But betrayal and political gains make things ever more complicated, and ending the Blight then falls to senior Grey Warden Jesse and the youngest recruit Lúcio, who is still quite new to their order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WAAAAAHHH! This has been in the works for _[four months!](http://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/post/176115058874/it-has-started-my-mchanzo-dragon-age-au-begins)_ Please give a warm welcome to my very ambitious Dragon Age: Origins McHanzo AU :DDD
> 
> If you are unfamiliar with the Dragon Age universe and all of its very complex and detailed lore, [I made a tumblr post that summarises a lot of it.](http://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/post/178694255544/a-brief-history-of-thedas)
> 
> My [Hunter and the Demon](https://archiveofourown.org/series/628904) series is currently on a break while I work on this. But knowing me, I'll be working on both simultaneously because I just cannot stop with my precious series lmao.

No one truly understands what a Blight is. The Chantry would have you believe that it is the Maker’s punishment for humankind’s arrogance in seeking to enter the realm of Gods. The dwarven folk would tell you that they don’t rightly care, as they deal with the darkspawn in their underground tunnels on a regular basis and have done for thousands of years.

      The Grey Wardens, who are renowned for ending Blights, would tell you that it is a spiritual corruption that usually starts with an Old God becoming tainted and turning into an Archdemon.

      While there is much debate on how exactly the Blight starts, it all starts in the same way for the Grey Wardens; dreams of an ancient dragon God being corrupted, its flesh becoming rotted and stretched. They hear its terrible calls as clearly as if they were standing directly before it.

      At least, it’s how two Grey Wardens based in Ferelden first knew that they were dealing with a true Blight.

      Jesse sits upright on the flimsy makeshift bed. It creaks under his weight, but that’s what you get as a Grey Warden in Ferelden; slimy public housing with even slimier staff tending to you. He hears an identical creak from across the small room: Lúcio.

      “Did you see that?” the younger Warden whispers. “The… that dragon thing?”

      “Yeah,” Jesse whispers back, hoarse and uneasy.

      “Was that… an archdemon?”

      “I think so.”

      They sit in a heavy silence for a time. Eventually, Jesse pulls himself out of his bed.

      “I think we should dress and head downstairs.”

      Lúcio appears not to have heard him. But after a short time, he nods shakily. “Ok,” is all he says.

      They dress, as always, to be ready for battle; Jesse pulls on his undergarments and then his leather armour, while Lúcio dresses in the many layers of his mage’s robes.

      The dining hall is tense and quiet when they finally get downstairs and join the other ten Wardens. No one is eating their meals, and Jesse guesses that it has a lot more to do with the archdemon than the abysmal quality of the food at this establishment; they all look dishevelled and anxious.

      Jesse spots Gabriel, the current Commander of the Grey Wardens, sitting at the head of the table, looking unusually grim-faced.

      He waits for Jesse and Lúcio to be seated before he addresses them all.

      “As we all know, there have been darkspawn stragglers spotted in the Korcari Wilds for quite some time now.” He hunches forward and sighs. “It appears the few stragglers are now an amassing horde. So it appears that we are looking at a true Blight.”

      Gabriel pauses as if waiting for input, but no one speaks. Jesse looks around at all of the tired faces around him, and he thinks he knows what it is they wish to say: we have known it was a true Blight.

      Gabriel takes in a deep breath. “I have received correspondence from the king. He wishes to stage a battle at Ostagar with his troops.” He plants his arms on the table. “And he expects us to fight alongside him.”

      The table breaks out in indignant mutters and growls.

      “Warden-Commander, you surely can’t allow that-?”

      “The king doesn’t even believe this to be a true Blight! Why would he-?”

      “The king is a fool!” barks Boris, a scarred and senior Warden.

      Gabriel stands abruptly, and the room falls silent.

      “I would remind you that you speak of the King of Ferelden,” he says firmly.

      Boris looks away sulkily and says nothing more.

      “We leave for Ostagar immediately; prepare your things and be ready to leave posthaste.”

      The Wardens rise and excuse themselves from the table. Jesse catches Lúcio’s eye and gestures with his head towards Gabriel: I need a word with the boss.

      Lúcio understands and heads back to their shared room alone. Jesse knows he can trust him to pack both of their things with ease: it’s not like either of them travel with a great deal of luggage anyway.

      Jesse waits until the last Wardens have left the table. He then follows Gabriel to his personal room.

      “Why are we _really_ fighting alongside the king?” he asks bluntly.

      Gabriel doesn’t even look up at him. “Because he is the king of Ferelden, and he personally requested Grey Warden presence at this battle.”

      “Is that all?” Jesse asks slyly.

      Gabriel looks up at him now. “You know me well, Jesse,” he says with a playful smile. “My biggest weakness is a pair of soft blue eyes.”

      “That, and flowing golden hair.”

      Gabriel chuckles under his breath. “You watch that mouth of yours,” he teases, “lest it get you into trouble that even I can’t save you from.”

      “That’s a fallacy,” Jesse snickers. “There does not exist a trouble that you couldn’t save me from.”

      “True enough,” he replies with a smile.

      Jesse braces himself for a dip in mood before he asks his next question: “Surely the twelve of us cannot be expected to influence the battle in any way next to the king’s own armies?”

      “I sent word to the rest of us in the east. The remaining Fereldan Wardens should be in Ostagar before we get there.” He rubs his jaw thoughtfully before he continues. “We should also consider conscripting some new recruits.”

      Jesse swallows; conscripting Grey Wardens in Ferelden is always awkward and messy, and the Joining Ritual that follows is oft messier.

      Gabriel senses his uneasiness and offers him a gentle smile. Jesse brushes it off and pretends to be fine. “Surely we can find some miscreants in Denerim that no one wants.”

      Gabriel sighs heavily. “It was not always this way,” he says wistfully. “Recruiting Grey Wardens never used to involve saving criminals in the hopes that they’ll be useful. It is only this way in Ferelden because the last Blight was so long ago.”

      Jesse knows that there are other reasons for Fereldans not being all that accepting of the Grey Warden order, but he keeps those comments to himself.

      They leave the public house, leave the grimy back alleys of the city of Denerim, and head into the city proper. There Gabriel finds two new recruits; a man named Daveth who was to be hanged for repeated offenses of thievery, and a city elf in the alienage by the name of Shiora, who was to be hanged for murder.

      Jesse doesn’t much like the look of either of them. Especially not Daveth; he looks as if he’d cut Gabriel’s purse if he knew he could get away with it. Shiora has a hard glint in her eyes, and Jesse has no trouble at all believing that she was capable of murdering a person. But he doesn’t feel as uneasy around her because she doesn’t hide behind charm and a sly smile.

      The Wardens and their two new recruits begin the long journey southwest to Ostagar. They travel along major roads and highways, staying close to the outskirts of The Bannorn, until they finally reach the Imperial Highway, which takes them south and straight towards Ostagar.

      They stop by a small village by the name of Lothering, where many refugees have gathered to escape the darkspawn in the southern reaches of the country. Gabriel tries to barter for supplies, but thanks to the refugee crisis, even the most basic food and necessities are hideously expensive. They move on shortly after that, but the whole situation leaves a bitter taste in Jesse’s mouth.

      When they finally reach Ostagar, Jesse is exhausted, but he knows that King Jack will demand an audience with the Grey Wardens whom he respects very much, et cetera et cetera. Jesse wants nothing more than to drag himself to their campsite and take a nice afternoon nap on his sleeping mat. Instead, he takes his lead from Gabriel; sweating and exhausted under all the armour, but still standing tall with impeccable posture and an alert expression. He looks to Lúcio as well; he wouldn’t be anywhere near as exhausted because his mage’s robes are much lighter than armour, but he does look a little hot and bothered. _Those robes_ do _have a lot of layers,_ Jesse thinks to himself.

      He is both impressed but unsurprised when he sees the king and his personal guard waiting for them at the pathway just outside of the fortress of Ostagar. There goes the option of sneaking off to avoid his address.

      “Welcome! Welcome, Grey Wardens!” His eyes find Gabriel, and his smile grows wider. “And welcome, Warden-Commander!”

      Jesse’s mind begins to wander shortly after the king begins talking. His eyes wander to the king’s guards and their intimidating armour, and then to Gabriel, and he wonders how the man can be covered in heavy armour and a cloak, and not be sweating even a little bit. Although, Rivain gets much warmer than Antiva, so he supposes Gabriel developed better heat tolerance than Jesse could have.

      “These must be the newest recruits!” the king cries. That gets Jesse’s attention again. He watches king Jack walk right up to Daveth and Shiora. “Hail, friends! Might I know your names?”

      Daveth mutters a hasty introduction. Shiora doesn’t bat an eyelid when she shares her name and that she’s from Denerim’s alienage.

      “Oh, I’m from Denerim, too! I’ve always wanted to visit the alienage, but my guards never allowed it.”

      Jesse doesn’t think this exchange could be any worse… until King Jack opens his mouth again.

      “What’s it like living there?”

      All of the Wardens freeze. Especially the elven Wardens (most of whom were rescued from city alienages).

      Shiora, to her credit, remains perfectly calm as she answers. “I killed an arl’s son for murdering my husband-to-be.”

      King Jack’s face loses all of its colour. “W…what? An arl’s son…?”

      Gabriel interrupts by stepping forward and clearing his throat. “There will be more time for informal talk at a later stage. But for now, I hope your majesty can excuse us; it’s been a long journey.”

      “Of course, of course,” the king says, visibly shaken. “We can discuss these matters later. Please, go and rest.”

      Finally, the Grey Wardens head to their designated camp site and set up their tents. Jesse and Lúcio set up their tents in relative silence; they’re both too exhausted for any meaningful discussions about king Jack and their upcoming battle with the darkspawn. As far as Jesse’s concerned, it can all wait until tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w00t Chapter Two is here! Pls enjoy <3

The surrounding ruins of Ostagar fortress cut an imposing figure, but in the glow of the early morning sun is when Lúcio thinks they look the most impressive. He had asked Gabriel’s permission to explore the nearby Tower of Ishal, and Gabriel had granted it, provided he could find a fellow Warden to accompany him.

      Before any recreational activities can begin, however, the king has requested a quick moment of their time. He speaks with all of the overconfidence typical of privilege and power, and Lúcio really struggles to give the king his full attention. His eyes wander to Jesse, who also looks as if his thoughts are far from the present.

      When king Jack finally finishes talking about how he doesn’t believe this to be a true Blight, Gabriel keeps the Wardens from dispersing to address them quickly:

      “We all know this is a true Blight. And I don’t wish to frighten you, but we cannot allow ourselves to become complacent. This will not be our usual squabble with darkspawn stragglers – this will be a battle with a horde. We must be ready for it.”

      Gabriel looks at all of his Wardens. No one utters a word. He offers a tired sigh. “Let us use this time to prepare ourselves for tonight.” He points to Daveth, Shiora and Jesse. “You three, with me.”

      Jesse gives Lúcio a knowing look before following the Warden-Commander to his quarters.

      He waits for the rest of the Wardens to disperse before he makes a move himself. He wanders around the camp, thinking of who to ask to accompany him to the Tower of Ishal. There’s no point waiting for Jesse; Gabriel will be sending him into the Wilds with the new recruits to gather ingredients for the Joining Ritual.

      Perhaps he could ask Theron? He would most likely spend the time before battle training and meditating, but he _does_ love old architecture; perhaps he can be tempted to spend an hour or more admiring an old Tevinter watchtower?

      His mind made up, Lúcio patrols the campsite, looking for a stocky elf with a black ponytail and facial tattoos.

      Before Lúcio had met Theron, he had only spoken to city elves, those born in the slums kept separate from human dwellings. He had never met a Dalish elf, so he was rather taken aback by the intricate facial tattoos. And when he had first heard the man speak, he was even more taken aback by his abrupt manner and his tendency to use Elvish words and phrases interspersed in his speech.

      Despite their differences, they had become fast friends. Lúcio spots him speaking to the Ash Warriors; human warriors with minimal armour and lots of body painting. Theron sees Lúcio approaching, and he excuses himself from the Ash Warriors and walks towards the young mage with a smile.

      “Good morning, _falon,”_ he says.

      “Theron, my man,” Lúcio sing-songs, putting on the most charming smile he can muster. “How would you like to accompany me to the Tower of Ishal?”

      Theron’s eyes widen. “We have permission to go there?”

      “Indeed we do. Provided we go together.”

      In a rare moment of uninhibited joy, Theron smiles widely. “Shall we, then?”

      They leave the main campsite, making idle small talk. When they reach the main path into the old fortress, they head left towards the tower.

      “The Tower of Ishal,” Theron says reverently as they approach it. “It’s thought to have been built nearly 1,500 years ago to protect the Fortress of Ostagar.”

      Lúcio takes in what Theron has said. “But that was before the first Blight. What did they need protection from if there were no darkspawn?”

      “The Chasind folk of the Wilds. Or as the Tevinter called them: barbarians.”

      Lúcio huffs at that. “And I’m guessing this land originally belonged to those barbarians?”

      “Naturally. Ostagar was built to establish Tevinter presence in these parts of the Wilds. But the fortress fell during the first Blight and has been abandoned since.”

      “Wow,” Lúcio whispers. While Ostagar is in ruins and pieces, the tower stands tall, proud and intact; it looks maybe a couple of hundred years old, not a thousand. “Those Tevinters sure do build to last.”

      When they finally reach its entrance, a king’s guard stops them.

      “My apologies, Wardens,” they say, holding up a hand in a ‘halt’ motion, “but you aren’t permitted to enter the tower.”

      Lúcio and Theron must look heartbroken, because the guard then quickly adds “it’s a vital part of the king’s battle strategy for tonight. We are setting up traps and fortifications.” They clear their throat quickly. “You are, however, more than welcome to walk around the grounds.”

      With a final apology from the guard, the two Wardens busy themselves admiring the exterior of the tower, as well as the surrounding debris from ancient siege machines. They chat excitedly about ancient architecture styles, ancient architecture in general, and of course, about how awful those Tevinter colonisers are.

      When they see all that they can in the surrounds of the tower, they head back into the fortress camp. As they re-enter the campsite, something catches Theron’s eyes.

      “Templars,” he hisses. Lúcio spots them too.

      “What would Templars be doing here…?” His question goes unanswered when they see a group of mages. Circle mages. It makes Lúcio feel physically unwell to see fellow mages under constant surveillance like that. Especially by templars (which in his opinion is just a neutral title for a mage hunter).

      Theron must notice the change in his demeanour, because he grabs Lúcio’s elbow and gently leads him away.

      “They make me uncomfortable, too; the Chantry should not have soldiers at their disposal.”

      “It’s not just the templars,” Lúcio whispers, shaking his head. “It’s the whole prisoner business.”

      “I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with Ferelden laws regarding mages.”

      “Children who show signs of the gift are removed from their families and forced to live in the Circle Tower. There is no leaving, there are no marriages or children allowed. Mages in this country are prisoners for life, and even when they’re granted permission to leave their prison, they’re still watched.”

      Theron is quiet for a time. With a thoughtful expression, he whispers “Would that have been your fate were you not a Grey Warden?”

      Lúcio casts a backward glance at the Circle mages again before responding. “Yep,” is all he says. He feels bad for being so short with Theron, but seeing those templars and mages has put him on edge.

      “In Dalish clans,” Theron says gently, “mages are treated with awe but caution.” He looks away shyly, as if he’s caught himself saying something offensive.

      “Pssh! Being a mage is dangerous! No need to fear saying as much!”

      “My knowledge of such things is only theoretical,” Theron says to his shoes.

      “Well, you can ask me whatever. I promise I won’t be offended!”

      Theron meets his eyes shyly. “…I have heard that mages can communicate with spirits and other such creatures in the Beyond.”

      Right. ‘The Beyond’ is the name the Dalish use for the Fade.

      “And…” Theron continues, “and I’ve heard that this can make you more susceptible to possession by demons.”

      “That’s true. But unlike Ferelden mages, Rivaini mages are all taught how to safely communicate with benign spirits and learn from them without making ourselves vulnerable to demons.” He takes a risk, and tells Theron more. “In fact, we have specialists who commune with spirits regularly for guidance and knowledge.”

      Lúcio watches Theron’s reaction closely, almost expecting him to respond negatively to centuries of Rivaini tradition around magic and spirits.

      Instead, he smiles widely. “Our clans have specialists like that, too! How does the Chantry refer to them again?”

      “Hedge mages,” Lúcio says with a playful pout.

      “Yes! Hedge mages.” Theron chuckles under his breath.

      “Hail, you two!” A familiar voice calls to them.

      They both turn and spot Sereda, a fellow Warden who is a sharp archer with an even sharper tongue. Lúcio suspects as a dwarven noble, she grew up having to be quick witted and mouthy.

      “Hail,” Theron replies. Lúcio offers her a wave and a smile.

      “We’ve found the training grounds, boys. Care for some target practice?”

      Theron fiddles with his quiver strap on his shoulder. “I suppose so.” He faces Lúcio. “Unless there’s another abandoned tower you wish to explore?”

      “I’m good for today,” laughs Lúcio.

      “You should join us, too!” Sereda booms, hands on her hips. “Practice your combat skills instead of your healing magic.”

      Lúcio is ecstatic that he’s being invited along for training. “Ok, I’m in,” he says with a large smile.

      The three of them head towards the training grounds, and when they arrive, two Wardens approach Theron to get his opinion on proper fletching for arrows, which leaves Lúcio alone with Sereda.

      “So,” she says suggestively, “the two of you were at an abandoned tower all day?”

      He can feel his cheeks heat right up, and he curses that involuntary reaction – there is nothing to be embarrassed about because there is nothing between him and Theron. Before he can offer a retort, Sereda lets out a might belly laugh and nudges him playfully.

      “I’m only teasing! I know that Theron cares more for Tevinter architecture than he does romance.”

      Lúcio can’t help the inelegant snort that escapes him. He forgives Sereda her teasing, especially since it means that she’s opening up more and relaxing around her fellow Wardens.

      While he’s not as involved with target practice given that he specialises in healing magic, he could think of worse ways to pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the ONLY labelled map of Ostagar I could find](https://www.rpgitalia.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/ostagar.jpg).... and it's in Italian X'D The right hand side are the outskirts of Ostagar, with the white circle labelled 'mappa del mondo' being the bridge that becomes the Imperial Highway. Aaaaand the left hand side is the campsite, with the OTHER 'mappa del mondo' label leading into the Korcari Wilds. And, of course, 'Torre de Ishal' = Tower of Ishal :p


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I missed the weekly update schedule D: Pls accept a slightly late chapter three with wacky witch of the wilds Moira!
> 
>  **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Hanging bodies  
> \- Stabbing  
> \- Blood collection

Jesse finds himself in the forest of the Korcari Wilds feeling incredibly bored. Even with Shiora hounding him with questions – about Grey Wardens, about Antiva, about _anything,_ really – he still feels as if his brain is melting. At least Daveth is quiet; he can handle an onslaught of questions from _one_ person, but not two at the same time.

      “So we need to collect exactly two vials of darkspawn blood?” she asks, twirling one of her daggers absently.

      “Yes,” Jesse says.

      “One for each new recruit?”

      “Yes.”

      “But you can’t tell us how they’ll be used in the Joining Ritual?”

      “Yes.”

      “… ‘Yes’ you can’t tell us, or ‘yes’ you will tell us?”

      “Yes.”

      “Are you even listening to me at this point?”

      “… Yes.”

      To her credit, she takes it all in her stride.

      Daveth stops suddenly in his tracks. “Did the darkspawn do that?” he asks, pointing to a wooden bridge. From it, bodies hang. Jesse moves closer, slow and quiet, and the two new recruits follow closely, equally quiet.

      Up this close, he can see that each body is bloodied and stabbed; they were definitely hanged after dying as a warning.

      “That does indeed look like the handiwork of darkspawn,” Jesse whispers. He takes in a deep breath and turns to face Daveth and Shiora. “We’ll need to move slow and quiet from here on.”

      The two recruits nod their understanding and the three of them proceed slowly further into the Wilds. Daveth and Shiora both move surprisingly quietly. Almost as quiet as Jesse. Although, when you run with Antivan gangs and your biggest competition are assassin’s guilds, you learn very quickly to move silently and with purpose.

      They walk around a large hill, and when they round the corner, they spot a small group of tall darkspawn. Before they can hide, a darkspawn with a staff points at them and lets out a very loud and throaty ‘ruk-ruk-ruk’ noise. It sounds eerily like laughter.

      Daveth fires an arrow at it, and it lands neatly in the creature’s neck. But it doesn’t fall; it raises its staff and with a burst of light, the surrounding darkspawn’s weapons burst into flames. They raise their fiery blades and charge towards the trio.

      Jesse charges towards the closest darkspawn. It swings aggressively with a powerful but clumsy blow, and Jesse dodges with ease, cutting its leg with his dagger. The creature falls to the ground and Jesse ends it swiftly with his other dagger wedged firmly in its throat. The fire on its blade dies as well.

      The remaining darkspawn soldiers with flaming weapons get dealt with quickly by the three of them, but the last one, the Hurlock emissary with the staff, is still standing, despite having two arrows in its neck and one in its shoulder between the pauldron and the breastplate.

      Jesse sees Daveth draw another arrow.

      “Aim for the stomach,” he says. “There’s no metal plating there.”

      Daveth obeys and lands an arrow right on target. The darkspawn emissary howls and doubles over, clutching at the arrow poking out of it. Shiora runs up to it and stabs it in the stomach. Finally, it goes down.

      “Oh,” she says, sounding confused, “it’s not wearing a helmet?”

      Jesse already knows this; Hurlock emissaries have decorative leather wrappings and blades in place of a helmet. Which means its rotten and peeling skin can easily be seen.

      “Eugh!” Shiora cries. “What are these things?”

      “Hurlocks.”

      “What?”

      “There are three main types of darkspawn foot soldiers: Genlocks, Ogres, and Hurlocks.” He points a leather boot at the Hurlock’s face. “This fella is a Hurlock.”

      “Are these good enough to get blood from?” Daveth asks.

      “Reckon so,” Jesse replies simply. He removes the two vials from his pack. “Here, let me collect it.” He kneels beside the corpse and carefully fills one vial, and then the other.

      “That’s it, then?” Daveth enquires.

      “Not quite,” Jesse answers. “Gabriel wanted me to stop by an old Warden outpost in this area. Apparently, there were some important documents left behind.”

      Both new recruits nod and follow Jesse without another word. They walk for quite some time without any interruptions, but the three of them feel fidgety; it’s been too quiet.

      Suddenly a short darkspawn soldier appears in a puff of smoke, a great battle axe above its head. It lets out a fierce cry and nearly cleaves Jesse in two, but he rolls out of harm’s way and the beast misses him. Another two short darkspawn appear in a puff of smoke as well, one of them with a sword and shield, and the other with a bow and arrow.

      The three of them fight them off and end them quickly.

      “How did they do that?” Shiora growls, wiping her blade off with the dead darkspawn’s flimsy quiver.

      Jesse walks up to one of the corpses and points with a dagger. “That there is a Genlock. Notice they’re a lot smaller than Hurlocks, which means they tend to be craftier. They set traps and use cloaking abilities to catch enemies by surprise.”

      “That’s bloody great, isn’t it?” Daveth mutters. “The big ones use magic, the little ones use cloaking…”

      “Calm down,” Jesse sighs. “We’ll be out soon.” He points west of their position. “The old archives should be just down that path.

       After a short walk without further darkspawn encounters, they see the large ruins of the old Warden outpost. There are no ceilings left at all; just dilapidated walls and crooked columns. It doesn’t take Jesse long to find the chest with the Grey Warden treaties.

      “Oh, no.” The box Gabriel had described sits on the floor, broken and completely empty. _Of course,_ he thinks bitterly, _it couldn’t be too easy._

      He digs around in the debris, looking for any signs of the documents when a taunting voice reaches them.

      “Well, well,” says the voice. The three of them turn sharply and watch a tall slender woman approach them. “What have we here?” she sing-songs. She has a long and angular face, pale skin and bright red hair cut short. Jesse hears both recruits move closer behind him.

      “Are you vultures, I wonder?” she continues, stepping ever closer to them. Jesse moves closer, too, refusing to be afraid.

      “Or are you merely intruders, coming into these Wilds of mine?” She stops and folds her thin arms across her chest. “What say you? Vulture, or intruder?”

      “Neither,” Shiora says. Jesse can hear the nerves in her voice. “This tower once belonged to the Grey Wardens.”

      The woman huffs. “Tis a tower no longer.” She walks briskly passed them, and Jesse doesn’t miss the way Daveth and Shiora move even closer to him. As she walks passed, he notices that her eyes are two different colours; one a pale blue, and the other, yellow.

      “I have been watching your progress for some time. Where do they go, and why are they here?” She turns to face them, and watches the three of them expectantly.

      Jesse chances a glance at the recruits in his charge. “Don’t answer her,” he instructs. “She looks Chasind, so others may be near.”

      The woman huffs again. “Do you fear barbarians swooping down upon you?”

      Before Jesse can retort, Daveth blurts out “she’s a witch of the Wilds, she is! She’ll turn us into toads!”

      “Witch of the Wilds,” the woman repeats, her sing-song voice dripping with mockery. “Such idle fancy from grown men.” She eyes both Jesse and Daveth distastefully before her mismatched eyes land on Shiora.

      “You there, pretty girl. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilised.”

      Jesse takes a protective step towards Shiora, but she waves him off. She adopts a sly half-smile. “Shiora Tabris of the Denerim alienage.” She then offers the woman a formal bow.

      “Well now,” she laughs, “that is a proper civil greeting.” She places a hand on her chest, and that’s when Jesse notices how absurdly long her nails are. “You may call me Moira.” She then runs those nails through her hair, sweeping the stray bits away from her face. “Shall I guess your purpose here, then?”

      In lieu of answering, Jesse squares his shoulders and folds his arms, then tilts his head as if to say ‘go on, then.’

      She smiles with a condescending huff. “You sought something in that chest, that is here no longer-”

      Jesse loses his patience: “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and as such, I suggest you return them.”

      Moira doesn’t even blink. “Grey Wardens,” she says airily. “Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer all you wish; I am not threatened.”

      Shiora takes a step forward. “If you know where these documents are, would you be willing to take us to them?”

      Jesse clenches his jaw in frustration – this exchange is getting out of hand very quickly. But Moira seems pleased with Shiora’s response.

      “Now that is a sensible request. I like you.” She turns without offering them a backward glance. “Follow me, if it pleases you.”

      Jesse doesn’t feel they have much choice. He waits for Moira to get a bit further ahead before he whispers to Shiora: “Be careful. First it’s ‘I like you,’ and then zap! Toad time.”

      “She’ll put us all in the pot, she will!” Daveth whispers frantically. “Just you watch!”

      “We need those documents,” Jesse says. “Remember: we outnumber her, so we have the advantage if it comes to blows. Let’s just get our documents and get out.”

      They follow Moira deeper into the Wilds, Jesse and Daveth on guard, and Shiora following in earnest. He notices that Moira doesn’t carry a staff. _Perhaps she isn’t a witch at all,_ Jesse thinks, _just a lone Chasind Wilder._ She still puts him on edge; Chasind folk are hardly ever solitary. So either there are others lying in wait, or she’s a dangerous loner that’s been exiled.

      She leads them to a small hut. It looks old and unkempt, but solid.

      “Wait here, please.”

      She enters her hut, leaving the door open behind her.

      Daveth leans in close to Jesse to whisper. “She’s a witch I tell you. We shouldn’t be talking to her!”

      “Quiet, Daveth!” Shiora hisses. “If she’s really a witch, do you want to make her angry?”

      When Moira comes back out, she has a smug smile. Jesse suspects he had heard everything. She holds paper scrolls out to Jesse with her spidery hands. “Here are your treaties, and before you begin barking,” she eyes Jesse wearily, “your precious seals wore off long ago. I have since re-sealed them with my own magic.”

      “You-” Jesse is lost for words. “Oh. Uhhh… thank you.” He takes the scrolls gently from her grasp.

      Moira smirks. “Take them back to your fellow Wardens and tell them that this Blight is a greater threat than they realise.”

      “What do you mean by that?” Jesse asks suspiciously.

      “Either the threat is more, or they realise less.”

      Jesse resists the urge to roll his eyes. Moira continues: “Now, I suspect you are done here? You are done with your business in my Wilds?”

      Jesse purses his lips. They were ridiculously lucky that those treaties had been protected and returned to them without incident. He decides not to push their luck.

      “Yes. We are done in your Wilds.”

      “Very well. As my esteemed guests, I will escort you out.”

      Jesse doesn’t think he’s ever gone from threatened to cautious to amused so quickly in his life. Whatever Moira is, she isn’t going to harm them.

      When they return to Ostagar, Jesse takes the recruits straight back to the bonfire, where he gets Shiora and Daveth to wait while he fetches Gabriel. But before he heads to the Warden-Commander’s quarters, he catches up briefly with Lúcio in their shared tent.

      “Have any fun without me?” he asks as Lúcio rolls up his sleeping mat.

      “Yes,” he replies brightly.

      “Oh really, now? Just what did you get up to?”

      “Theron and I checked out the Tower of Ishal. He knows so much about Tevinter history and architecture. I mean, he even knows when the Tower was built!”

      “Mmmhmm. An’ tell me more about how you only see Theron as a friend?”

      “Wow, Jesse,” Lúcio drawls sarcastically.

      “I’m just sayin’! I won’t be hurt if you want to bunk with Theron instead.”

      Lúcio throws his sleeping mat at Jesse.

      “Ok, ok!” he cries, “I’ll stop!”

      Lúcio smiles, then he falters. “I, uh… I only really feel comfortable bunking with you.”

      Jesse looks up at him, feeling surprised.

      “I mean,” Lúcio continues, “you’re the only other trans Warden. I don’t know how comfortable I’d feel with anyone else.”

      Jesse is quiet for a time. “That’s fair,” is all he can think to say. That is, until he figures out how to lift the mood again. “You know who I’d bunk with if you weren’t around?”

      Lúcio picks up on the suggestive tone of his voice. He places his hand over his face dramatically. “If you say Aeden Cousland, I will throw my pack at you.”

      “What can I say?” Jesse drawls playfully with a shrug, “it’s hard to find a man taller than me. Plus I have a thing for nobility-”

      “Out!” Lúcio cackles, throwing his pack across the tent. Jesse knows he threw it to deliberately miss, but it came pretty damn close to him.

      “Ok, ok! I’m out!” he laughs. He exits the tent, then heads to Gabriel’s quarters with a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekly update on time :D This is where things start to go wrong D: And remember, if you're unfamiliar with the Dragon Age universe, [I wrote a brief summary of important lore stuff on my art blog.](http://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/post/178694255544/a-brief-history-of-thedas)
> 
>  **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Minor character death  
> \- Sword fighting  
> \- Battle scenes  
> \- Human flesh consumption (very brief)

“You know you don’t have to attend the Joining,” Jesse says.

      Lúcio knows it’s just Jesse being protective, but it still irritates him. Plus, he’s just changed into his decorative Grey Warden’s robes which are reserved for special ceremonies; he’s not about to change back. “I lived through my own Joining Ritual; I know what to expect.”

      “Living through your own and watching one happen are two very different experiences. Trust me.”

      “No, you trust _me._ I can handle it. I want to be part of it.” He curses himself for sounding like a whining child.

      Jesse sighs shortly. “If Gabriel is happy to have you in attendance, then I won’t say another word.”

      Lúcio raises an eyebrow. “You… won’t stay another word? Like, ever?”

      “Ha ha,” Jesse says dryly.

      They walk together to meet the recruits. Jesse fiddles with his decorative doublet under his leather armour. It’s adorned in vertical stripes of blue and pale gold; the colours of the Grey Wardens. Lúcio’s decorative Grey Warden mage’s robes are also decorated with vertical stripes. It feels strange to him to be wearing their Warden’s uniform when out in a campsite in the ruins of a Tevinter fortress – dress uniform is usually saved for important feasts hosted by important nobility.

      The two of them meet up with the recruits outside of their allocated camp. Gabriel arrives shortly after, dressed in his decorative Warden-Commander armour, also with blue and yellow doublet. He also has on his cloak, adorned with the Grey Warden’s griffin. He nods at each of them in greeting and waves them over as if to say ‘follow me.’

      He takes on a rather sombre expression as they walk. “I will not lie; we pay a heavy price to become Grey Wardens. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

      They arrive at an old temple that had slipped Lúcio’s attention when he and Theron were inspecting the Tower of Ishal. Gabriel asks that Lúcio stay with the recruits while he and Jesse prepare the necessary ingredients for the ritual.

      The three of them stand in silence. Shiora begins pacing. Daveth leans against a wall and folds his arms.

      “Why all these damned secrets and all these tests?” Shiora mutters to herself. “Haven’t we already proved our worth?”

      “Maybe it’s tradition,” Daveth replies with a slightly mocking tone. “Maybe it’s all to annoy you.”

      Shiora rolls her eyes. “It would have been nice to know exactly what we were getting into.”

      “Would you have come if they’d warned you?” Daveth counters.

      “Well, it was either this or be hanged. So I can safely say yes. Yes I would have. Better to die trying to end the Blight than being executed for avenging my husband.”

      Daveth nods his approval. “I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight,” he admits quietly.

      They stand a little longer in silence before Gabriel and Jesse return, the former holding a decorative silver chalice. Lúcio remembers it well; the joining chalice is used for every Joining Ritual.

      “At last,” Gabriel says, his usual relaxed demeanour gone, “we come to the Joining.”

      He approaches a small and simple stone table, and places the chalice onto it gently.

      “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

      Shiora pales. “We’re going to… to drink darkspawn blood?”

      “As the first Grey Wardens did before us,” Gabriel replies easily, “just as we did before you.” He gestures backwards at the chalice. “This is the source of our power and our victory.”

      “Those that survive become immune to the taint,” Jesse says, straightening his posture and placing his hands behind his back. “We can sense darkspawn, and we can use it to end the archdemon.”

      “Those that survive?” asks Daveth carefully.

      Gabriel shakes his head minutely. “Not all who drink will survive. And of those that do, they are forever changed. It’s the price we pay.” He stands a little straighter. “We speak only a few words before the ritual begins, but these words have been said since the first Grey Wardens.”

      He looks expectantly between Jesse and Lúcio. Lúcio notices that Jesse is looking at him too. It’s a gentle invitation; Jesse’s expression suggests ‘I can if you don’t want to.’

      But he does want to. He steps forward and clears his throat. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.”

      With that, Gabriel turns and picks up the chalice. “Daveth, step forward.”

      Lúcio starts to feel nervous now. He was recruited with two others, and one of them had died. He can feel his heart speeding up.

      Daveth approaches Gabriel, his face still and unreadable. He takes the chalice without a word. When he’s taken his sip, Gabriel quickly removes the cup from his hands.

      Daveth cries out and doubles over, his hands grabbing at his head. His whole body tenses and he stands upright, his eyes rolled back into his skull.

 _He’s dead,_ Lúcio thinks. When recruits react this violently to the taint, they usually don’t live.

      Daveth’s crying stops, and he chokes and sputters, falling to the ground with a weak hand on his throat. He shakes and chokes for a few seconds longer before he falls still, dead.

      Gabriel removes his cloak, placing it over Daveth and covering his body. “I am sorry, Daveth.”

      When he turns to Shiora, the young woman stiffens. Gone is the hard, dangerous glint in her eye, replaced with wild panic. Lúcio remembers how terrified he was during his Joining, and he tries to comfort her with a look, but her gaze is fixed on the chalice.

      “Step forward, Shiora.”

      Shiora closes her eyes with a shaky breath, opens them, then walks towards Gabriel. He hands her the chalice, and she takes a drink. Gabriel removes the chalice from her hands, and the three Wardens watch her and wait.

      She stands nervously, looking between the three of them. Suddenly her face crumples in pain and she puts a hand on the side of her head. She groans but she doesn’t cry out like Daveth did. _Maybe she’ll survive,_ Lúcio thinks. Her breathing becomes heavier and her eyes roll back and then she collapses.

      Lúcio doesn’t even think; he rushes straight over to her and checks her vitals. He doesn’t see or hear anything Gabriel and Jesse are doing – his focus is solely on Shiora and her pulse, which is becoming regular again.

      He lifts an eyelid, watching her pupil and the pink tissue around the eye; her pupil shrinks with the sudden intake of light, and the pink surrounding tissue is becoming pinker and less pale – all sure signs of life.

      He stays close to the ground with her and holds her hand.

      He hears the shuffle of heavy plate armour and remembers that Gabriel and Jesse are still here. He then remembers that Gabriel is usually the one to help fresh Wardens up off the floor.

      “Uhhhh…” Lúcio says.

      “Stay there,” Gabriel whispers. Lúcio obeys, and when Shiora comes to, he helps her up gently.

      “It is finished,” Gabriel announces. “From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden.” Then less formally and with his normal gentle manner: “How do you feel?”

      Shiora takes in a shaky breath. “I… Nothing you could have told me would have prepared me for that.”

      Lúcio touches her shoulder gently, and she leans into the touch.

      “Did you…” Jesse clears his throat, “did you dream of darkspawn while you were unconscious?”

      “Yes. I saw… a big dragon creature? But everything was too green… it’s like I was looking through eyes not my own.”

      The three older Wardens give each other knowing looks.

      “That,” says Gabriel “is the archdemon. And you see it as the darkspawn do. You’ll have dreams like that when you begin to sense the darkspawn.” He gestures around him. “As we all do.” He straightens his posture as he goes back into Warden-Commander mode. “Take some time to recover. When you’re ready, I would like for you meet me in my quarters, so we can find a place for you on the battlefield.” He looks to Lúcio and Jesse. “I’ll need you two to accompany me to a meeting with the king. But first, please walk our new Warden back to the campsite.”

      They both nod their compliance, and when Gabriel heads off ahead of them, they share a tired look.

      “I swear, this better be the last meetin’ we have with the king,” Jesse grumbles.

      Shiora laughs weakly. “Is he normally so overbearing?”

      “Only with Grey Wardens,” Lúcio explains. “He has a… shall we say, a fascination with us and our legends.”

      “You know it was his father that allowed Grey Wardens back into Ferelden?” Jesse says matter-of-factly.

      “That’s right. We were an exiled order. Weird to think about it sometimes.”

      “Wow,” Shiora says simply. “There is much to learn about our order.” She lets out a tired sigh. “Perhaps when we are not about to fight an entire darkspawn army?”

      “Good point,” Jesse laughs. “Let’s get you back to yer tent, then.”

      Lúcio and Jesse both walk with Shiora back to the campsite, and when she’s safely in her tent, the two of them head back towards the temple and further into the ruins where the king has set up a makeshift war table.

      Gabriel’s back is to them, while the king stands on the opposite side, tall in his ornate gold armour. His general, Teyrn Talon is beside him.

      Lúcio has never liked the look of the general; his skin is sallow and too devoid of any marks and lines for someone his age. His eyes are also too pale, almost unnaturally so. Even his hair has no colour – it’s grey and probably stays out of his face because it’s too heavy and lank to move.

      “General,” king Jack says, exasperated, “my decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault.”

      “Your majesty,” Talon responds, his voice deep and raspy, “the darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines.”

      “We simply don’t have the numbers for it to be otherwise.” He looks at Talon slyly. “We could always wait for the Orlesian forces to join us.”

      “I must again reject the fool notion that we need _Orlesians_ to help us,” growls Talon.

      Right. Lúcio sometimes forgets that the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden wasn’t very long ago at all. And that older Fereldans are still mad about it.

      “Then our current forces will have to suffice,” Jack replies sharply. He turns to face Gabriel. “Warden-Commander, are your Wardens ready for battle?”

      “All but one, your majesty. Our newest recruit is resting, but we will find a place for her on the battlefield.”

      The king smiles widely. “Wow, a new Grey Warden.”

      Talon grunts. “Your majesty’s fascination with legends will be your undoing. Please, let us tend to reality.”

      The king rolls his eyes. “Very well. Speak your strategy then.”

      Talon leans over the war table where a simple map of Ostagar lies. He runs an armoured finger over the south of the fortress, where it borders on the Wilds. “Your forces and the Grey Wardens will draw the darkspawn in here, where they will charge.”

      He then points to the Tower of Ishal. “When you have drawn them in enough, you will send someone to light the beacon at the top of the tower, which will signal my army to charge from the southeast.”

      “Hmmm,” Jack says, looking over the map. “It’s a simple task, but there’s a chance that darkspawn could get passed our defences. We’ll need two experienced soldiers who know how to handle darkspawn.” He looks up at both Jesse and Lúcio with a smile.

      “Your majesty, I must protest!” barks Talon. “You rely on these Grey Wardens too much!”

      “Enough, general. This is a vital task for your strategy, and Grey Wardens are the best equipped to battle darkspawn. Thus, it follows that Grey Wardens should be left with this task. Gabriel, can you spare these two?”

      Gabriel looks at both Lúcio and Jesse to make sure they’re ok with this turn of events. Jesse gives a little nod, and Lúcio nods eagerly; he really didn’t want to be away from Jesse during the battle, and having a relatively simple task away from the main fighting ensures both of their safety.

      “Then it’s settled!” Jack says excitedly. “Lúcio and Jesse will light the signal.” He inhales excitedly, a look of childlike delight on his face. “I cannot wait! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil.”

      Talon leaves the meeting hastily without another word. Gabriel excuses himself, and Lúcio and Jesse follow him.

      They re-enter the main campsite, where Gabriel stops them. “Before I fetch Shiora, I need to give you some instructions. You are to light the beacon and defend the Tower with the king’s army. If you are needed, we will send word, but please, do not take any unnecessary risks, and stay at the Tower.”

      “Understood,” Lúcio and Jesse say together.

      Gabriel gives them a nod. “I best get everyone into position, then. Stay safe and fight well.”

      “Maker watch over you, Gabriel,” Jesse whispers.

      Gabriel smiles, warm and proud, but with a tint of sadness. He places a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, offers Lúcio one last smile, then leaves without another word.

      The Wardens head out – all but Jesse and Lúcio who watch from the safety of the main bridge that leads back out onto the Imperial Highway. They stand with a large number of archers from the king and the general’s armies.

      Lúcio looks down at everyone gathered: king’s forces, the Ash Warriors, templars, Circle mages, Grey Wardens; all of them standing in wait. They face the dense forest of the Korcari Wilds.

      Jesse nudges him and points to the tree line, where darkspawn foot soldiers begin to emerge. At first, it doesn’t look like a horde; more like a large group of stragglers. But then he looks further back into the trees, and he sees more foot soldiers than he can count.

      The horde marches slowly out of the cover of the forest. It’s rather jarring seeing them like this when they usually charge in head first screaming for blood. Lúcio remembers Jesse telling him that the only time darkspawn soldiers are ever calm and strategic is when there is an archdemon leading them.

      If this doesn’t prove to king Jack that they are definitely dealing with a Blight, then nothing else will.

      The darkspawn horde stop suddenly and stand in place, roaring and snapping at the forces beneath the bridge: emissaries smack their staffs on the ground; darkspawn with shields beat them with clubs and swords; smaller foot soldiers wave weapons in the air as they howl and taunt.

      A large Hurlock with ornate discoloured armour weaves between the animated darkspawn soldiers until it stands at the very front of the horde. The creature lifts a bloodied war axe and lets out a mighty bellow.

      The darkspawn forces charge.

      He can’t help but feel a slight pang of panic at the sight of them all. There look to be tens of thousands of foot soldiers.

      “Andraste’s panties,” Jesse breathes beside him, “are those Ogres?”

      Lúcio sees them too; gigantic darkspawn beasts that tower above even the tallest Hurlocks. Their large horns are curled and thick and add at least another foot to their already imposing height.

      And there are _a lot of them._ They emerge from the forest with their shorter brethren in an endless stream. It chills Lúcio’s blood; this is a horde, alright.

      King Jack gives the signal, and a million fire arrows fly off the bridge and tear through the night sky towards the horde. A lot of the smaller darkspawn fall, but there are a lot more to step up and replace them.

      The king waits until they get closer before ordering the second volley of fire arrows. Fewer darkspawn fall this time, with Hurlocks and Genlocks raising shields to stop the arrows. Even though a large number still fall, the arrows don’t stem the tide that is the horde.

      Finally, the king issues the order to charge. Lúcio watches on in horror, completely unable to look away. He watches darkspawn and king’s soldiers both cut and get cut down. And when the Ogres finally catch up, they grab soldiers and fling them backwards, into the horde to be finished off.

      When an enemy catapult lands a projectile just short of their bridge, Jesse makes up his mind.

      “We need to get to the tower. We’ll need to light the signal fire soon.”

      Lúcio just nods, and they move toward the Tower of Ishal. He can’t even find it in himself to be excited about entering the tower; terror and adrenalin have his focus on staying alive.

      When they reach the outside of the tower, they spot king’s soldiers fighting Hurlocks and Genlocks. They help how they can, and when they’re clear, they head to the entrance. A soldier waves them down frantically.

      “Oh, thank the Maker!” the soldier cries. “Grey Wardens! The tower’s been taken!”

      “Taken?” Jesse croaks. “Taken how?”

      “They came from the lower chambers,” the soldier pants. “The tower is completely overrun.”

      Lúcio feels sick; they’re in worst case scenario territory. But now is not the time to give into despair – they need to get that signal fire lit. He takes charge:

      “How many of your squadron left?”

      “Three of us.”

      “Good. We’ll need you all to help us fight our way to the top of the tower – the King and the Warden-Commander are depending on us!”

      The soldier swallows thickly, then nods. “Right-o, then.”

      They storm the castle, fighting small disorganised groups of darkspawn. They climb up to the next level, where they find plenty of unused traps laying around; these work to their advantage and help with fighting through the darkspawn in the tower.

      They climb up each of the tower’s floors, clearing every room of darkspawn and checking for survivors, but they only find corpses.

      By the time they’ve climbed up the fourth flight of stairs and cleared that level, they start to feel fatigued.

      “How many more stairs?” Jesse whines.

      Lúcio remembers watching the tower with Theron just hours before. They were whispering in awe and excitement –

 _Focus!_ he thinks to himself. _How many layers of windows did we count?_

      “This should be it,” Lúcio pants, pointing to the short flight of stairs in front of them. “The last door.”

      The five of them jog up the stairs towards the final door. They open it cautiously, expecting a group of Genlocks or Hurlocks. Instead, they walk in on a lone Ogre. The beast has its back turned to them, and it appears to be _eating_ a dead soldier. Upon hearing them enter, it turns its head and faces them.

      Lúcio has never seen one up close before, and his brain can’t help but take in irrelevant details about the beast’s appearance: it doesn’t have two large horns; it has several that branch and curl out, but are close enough together to look like just two. Even though its skin is mottled and wrinkled, he can see very solid and well-defined muscles. It wears armour on its forearms, one shoulder, and around its hips and groin.

      Lastly, he notices that its jaws hold teeth that come outwards – no wonder their faces are so long.

      The beast wipes the blood of its mouth hastily, then belts out a mighty roar at them, blood and spittle flying out of its mouth.

      Lúcio activates a shield spell; if the beast knocks anyone of their feet, they should be safe from broken bones. Jesse, of course, makes himself inconspicuous and sneaks behind the Ogre while the other three soldiers run head-on towards it.

      The Ogre smacks the first soldier off his feet and right into the wall. It grabs the second soldier by the throat and lifts her to face it.

      That’s when Jesse strikes; a quick slice to the tendons on its foot, and the monster drops the soldier, howling in pain and falling to its knees.

      The third soldier runs passed the panting second soldier and runs straight for the Ogre’s face with his greatsword. But the Ogre moves and the soldier pierces its shoulder instead. With its other hand, the beast grabs him by the head and throws him across the room. He hits the wall and falls to the ground dead.

      Lúcio casts an ice spell, which slows the beast’s movements enough for the recovered second soldier to pierce it through the heart. She leaves her sword and steps back as the Ogre thrashes and roars.

      With the beast in its death throes, Jesse wastes no time lighting their fire signal. It burns, wild and bright.

      “I’ll watch the door,” he says, “you see if Talon’s forces got the signal ok.”

      Lúcio watches. He spots Talon’s army. They just stand there. They’re in clear line of sight, they can definitely see the signal… but they don’t move.

      “Can they see it?” Jesse cries.

      “I think so! They’re just not reacting to it.”

      “What?! What do you mean?”

      Lúcio keeps watching them, feeling sicker and sicker at what he’s witnessing.

      Finally, they start moving. Except, they’re walking slowly away from the battlefield.

      “Jesse,” Lúcio says, voice thick with emotion, “Talon’s forces are leaving.”

      He doesn’t know if Jesse hears him; all he knows is that they’ve been left to die. There’s no way they could win this battle without the surprise attack from the general.

      He is so numb, he almost doesn’t hear the door burst open. When he turns, a group of Genlocks charge in. Jesse handles the more aggressive ones head-on with crafty blade work while the two soldiers take on the archers.

      Before the last of the Genlocks are down, more swarm in, this time with Hurlocks in tow. Lúcio slows them down with a blast of icy wind from his staff, but there are just too many of them; when one dies, another runs into the room with a bloodthirsty cry.

      They keep coming. The last of the soldiers that accompanied them up falls, and then it’s just the two of them.

 _This is where I die,_ he thinks. He just wants it to be over quickly.

      He gets an arrow to the shoulder, and the force of the impact knocks him onto his back. The pain is intense, and he’s too overwhelmed by emotion to bother trying to get back up.

 _This is where I die,_ he thinks again. As his vision fades to black, he hears Jesse’s voice, frantic and strained. The last thing he remembers seeing is the dark silhouette of a large bird.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **DOUBLE UPDATE!** Because Chapter Five is ridiculously short :p And also because it was Halloween yesterday, which always puts me in a generous mood lmao.
> 
> **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Mentions of character death  
> \- Mentions of blood magic

There have been many times where Jesse’s luck has left him completely blindsided. There was his youth in Antiva, where instead of being sold into an assassin’s guild where the only out was death, a small street gang had taken him in. There was that time where he was fleeing an enemy archer, and an arrow had lodged itself in his hat, unnervingly close to his head.

      And now, there’s this; just as he and Lúcio were seriously injured and completely overrun by darkspawn at the very top of a tower, a giant bird had grabbed him and flown him away.

      He remembers that giant silhouette vividly as he comes back into consciousness.

      “Ah,” a familiar voice says next to him, “your eyes finally open.”

      Jesse looks to his side, and there stands Moira, the witch from the Wilds. He looks at her for all of one second before his eyes scan his surroundings: mud walls, simple wooden interior, a familiar wooden door with wrought iron bracers; he must be _inside_ Moira’s little hut in the Wilds.

      “What happened at Ostagar?” he croaks.

      “You were injured and then I rescued you,” she says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Do you not remember?”

      “I… remember a giant bird?”

      “Yes. That was me.”

_Well, shit,_ Jesse thinks, _here I was thinkin’ she was just some oddball in a hut in the woods._ Shapeshifters are very powerful and skilled mages.

      ...Mages…

      Jesse bolts up off the bed. “Lúcio!”

      “Be calm, _da’len,”_ Moira says. “Your fellow Warden is alive and well.”

      Jesse sinks back down onto the bed and wills himself to steady his breathing.

      “Ok. So Lúcio is safe and well. Now please, what in the Maker’s name happened at Ostagar?”

      “Your general, Ser Talon-”

      “Teyrn Talon,” Jesse corrects automatically.

      “He quit the field.”

      “…no.”

      “Your fellow Warden watched it happen.” She stands straighter. _“I_ watched it happen. Your signal fire was big and bright, and your general walked away with his army. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he isn’t taking it well.”

      Jesse stands up again, but more slowly this time. “I need to see him.”

      Moira just nods and steps out of his way. He walks to the door, and before he opens it to leave, he pauses, then faces her.

      “Thank you, Moira. Thank you for saving us.”

      “I…” Moira falters. “You are welcome.”

      They fall into an awkward silence, so Jesse exits the hut. He finds Lúcio pacing. Upon hearing the door close, he turns to face Jesse. His eyes look red and tired.

      “You… you’re ok,” he breathes. Jesse walks up to him and wraps him in a tight hug. Lúcio hugs back just as fiercely.

      “Jesse, it was a massacre,” Lúcio whispers. “Without the teyrn’s assistance, we never stood a chance. The other Wardens…”

      “They’d all be dead,” Jesse rasps. “Boris, Theron, Sereda…”

      Lúcio buries his face in Jesse’s shoulder and weeps. Jesse cries too; he cries for his lost companions, but he cries for Gabriel the most. The man who he owed his new life to, the man who saw passed a grubby street thug and gave him a chance.

      Moira joins them outside and remains blissfully silent while they cry, but her displeasure is clear.

      “What do we do now?” Lúcio sobs.

      Jesse doesn’t answer for a while. His brain is overcome by grief and anger and confusion. But a small tendril of hope comes through.

      “We need to raise an army.”

      Lúcio sniffs. Then he looks up at Jesse, looking terribly confused. “What?”

      “We need to gather forces. We need to deal with this Blight, and we’re all that’s left of the Ferelden Wardens.”

      Lúcio wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s just the two of us, Jess. How can the two of us hope to achieve what you propose?”

      Jesse is tempted to give in to helplessness too. Until Moira addresses them indignantly.

      “It has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

      “It changed when we were betrayed!” Jesse snaps. He thinks of living in a world without Gabriel in it, and he loses his ferocity. “My whole damn world has changed. Why would Talon do this?”

      “Now _that_ is a good question, _da’len._ Men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps this Talon thinks the darkspawn is a simple army to outmanoeuvre. Or perhaps he is ignorant of the evil behind the Blight.”

      Lúcio sniffs again. “The Orlesian Wardens are on their way.”

      “You know how Talon feels about Orlesians,” Jesse says simply. “We need to assume that he’s already taken measures to stop them, and that they won’t arrive in time.”

      Lúcio takes in a shuddering breath, as if he’s about to break down into sobs again. But Jesse can see the gears turning in his head; he can see the lost look of uncertainty leaving his face.

      “Then it has to be us.” He breathes in slowly and wipes his damp eyes. “I just don’t understand – what could the teyrn possibly hope to gain from all this?”

      Jesse shrugs. “He could claim regency for the throne, but the Landsmeet would never stand for it.” And more fiercely: “Arl Reinhardt would never stand for it.”

      Lúcio looks up at Jesse curiously. “Your old friend the arl? Could he help us?”

      “I suppose. He’s a good man. And he’s well respected in the Landsmeet.”

      “And what of your treaties?” Moira asks. “Surely you have more to rely on than old friends?”

      Lúcio looks from Moira to Jesse. “…We have treaties?”

      Jesse sometimes forgets just how new Lúcio is to the order. “Yes. Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, and the Chantry – they’re obliged to help during a Blight.”

      “Really?” Lúcio’s eyes go wide, a look of excitement and disbelief on his face. “So we can really do this, then? We can really gather an army to defeat the Blight?”

      Jesse nods confidently.

      “So,” Moira sing-songs, “you are both set then? You are ready to be Grey Wardens?”

      Jesse looks to Lúcio, who looks a lot more determined now.

      “We are,” he announces confidently. Moira just nods with an approving smile.

      “Thank you again, Moira,” Jesse says. “Really, thank you.”

      “Don’t be saying your goodbyes so soon,” she huffs. “I’m coming with you.”

      “Oh,” Jesse says, unsure of what else to say.

      “My magic should prove useful to you. Provided that you don’t mind travelling with an apostate.”

      “Uh,” Lúcio says indignantly, “I’m a mage, too.”

      “And do you specialise in blood magic and death magic?”

      Lúcio swallows thickly. “You’re a blood mage?”

      “Does that bother you, _da’len?”_ she asks with a condescending lilt. “My specialist knowledge means I know far more of darkspawn than you do. Not only that, but I can lead you out of the Wilds and passed the darkspawn horde.”

_She’s right,_ Jesse thinks, _without her, we won’t be able to get around the horde._ But she’s an illegal mage; surely her presence will add to their troubles. But then again, if she’s avoided detection and capture in these Wilds for however long she’s lived here, she surely knows how to remain hidden.

      Jesse looks to Lúcio; the younger Warden looks uneasy, but he gives Jesse a nod.

      “Very well,” Jesse says, “we would be glad to have you along.”

      “Excellent. Might I suggest we stop at a little village just north of here?” She looks them up and down, and that’s when Jesse notices that he and Lúcio both look bloodied and worse for wear.

      “I suppose we need the supplies.”

      Moira nods approvingly, grabs a small pack that she must have prepared earlier, and together, the three of them head north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira speaks with Elvish interspersed in her wording because she lived among Dalish elves for a time. 
> 
> _Da'len_ = Child  
>  _Falon_ = Friend


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here's where we finally meet Lena the cloistered sister, and Hanzo & Genji the qunari brothers. I didn't want to put Lena in a dress, so she wears a [modified version of the Chantry dress.](http://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/post/178882716604/tracer-is-leliana-in-my-dragon-age-au-crossover)
> 
>  **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Sword and knife fighting  
> \- Mentions of religion & regressive religious beliefs

The journey to Lothering from the Korcari Wilds is a short one, but it feels as if a whole day has gone passed, and they’ve only just left the forest and gotten onto the Imperial Highway. Lúcio thinks the way the day drags on has a lot to do with how Jesse and Moira interrogate each other.

      “So…” Jesse drawls, “I’ve noticed yer ears.”

      “Do you find them to your satisfaction?” Moira purrs in response.

      “Eugh. I meant they ain’t quite human, but not pointy enough to be elven either.”

      “I am a halfling who found her way to a Dalish clan. I ended up in the Korcari Wilds and have lived there since.”

      At least Lúcio now knows why she uses elvish words. But it reveals more questions than it answers. And honestly, Lúcio would rather not know.

      “So…” Moira says haughtily, “if this Talon is a general, why do you call him ‘teyrn’?”

      “That’s his title,” Jesse says simply. “He happens to also be a general, but you can’t call him Ser, because that title’s reserved for knights. And knights are like 4 steps lower than a teyrn on the hierarchy.”

      “But why do you bother insisting on these titles?” She rolls her eyes. “Human nobility.”

      “And what do you know about human nobility?”

      “What else is there to know other than that they hold silly titles.”

      Lúcio tunes the both of them out until they reach their destination.

      “Lothering,” Jesse whispers as they arrive. “We meet again.”

      They walk down off the highway road and into the village proper. Jesse had suggested they stop at the pub for news, so that’s where the three of them proceed. As they walk on dirt and cobblestone, they pass a series of tents.

      “Looks like the Chantry’s full up, then,” Lúcio says.

      “Looks like,” Jesse replies.

      As they once again walk through the little village’s gates, they spot a templar in full armour. They barely glance at the group as they enter.

      “The Chantry and tavern are full to bursting with refugees,” they say dismissively, “but you’re welcome to pray or drink.”

      “Thank you,” Lúcio says quickly. He walks a little faster.

      “My, my,” Moira taunts, “not an apostate, are we?”

      “No,” Lúcio hisses, “I just don’t want to be around a mage hunter longer than I need to be.”

      “Alright y’all, let’s be calm now.”

      They proceed to the pub with Jesse leading the way. When they enter, a large knight in highly polished armour approaches them.

      “You look like Grey Wardens.”

      “You look like one of Talon’s officers,” Jesse says as he folds his arms defensively.

      A second officer without a helmet approaches. “Did we not ask the people here if they’d seen two Grey Wardens of this very description this morning?”

      “It seems we were lied to,” the first officer snarls.

      “Gentlemen, please,” comes a voice from the crowd. “Surely there’s no need for trouble here.”

      A tall woman with a thin build steps forward. She has short and spiked brown hair, and she appears to be wearing a Chantry dress, but on closer inspection, it’s been heavily modified to look more like a tunic with the sleeves rolled up. She wears a pair of skin tight brown breaches underneath it, with tall dusty boots.

      “This does not concern you, sister,” the officer says curtly. “Now stay out of the way. If you protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them.”

      “Excuse me?” Lúcio squawks. He can feel his heart speeding up and his stomach tying itself in knots.

      Jesse places a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need for things to escalate. Let us talk.”

      “Teyrn Talon told us of how he saved his men from the Grey Wardens’ treachery. The king and his army were not so fortunate.”

      “Oh, you dirty liar!” snaps Lúcio.

      “Now, hold on a minute-” Jesse says, but he’s interrupted.

      “Enough talk!” the first officer barks. He turns to face his fellow officers. “Take the Grey Wardens into custody. And kill the sister and anyone else who gets in the way!”

      The officers draw their blades. Lúcio casts a protective shield spell around Jesse and the sister, who has unsheathed a weapon.

      One of the officers lunges at the sister, and she catches the blade on the edge of a narrow dagger. She pushes away and slips the dagger between the officer’s armour plating, injuring without doing any permanent or serious damage.

      Jesse parries and dodges without inflicting any real damage, but Moira lets out a blast of fire into the air. Her fire trails don’t hit the soldiers, but rather heats their armour. That in combination with the sister’s dagger causes them to submit.

      “Alright, you’ve won!” the commanding officer gasps. “We surrender.”

      Moira laughs coldly. “You do not get to demand bloodshed and turn tail like a frightened dog when you lose.”

      The cloistered sister stands between Moira and the officer. “You have bested him, and he has admitted defeat! What more could you want?”

      “If you are so concerned for these men, you best say a prayer for their souls then, sister.”

      Lúcio moves to stand beside the sister and faces Moira defiantly. “There is no need for more death.”

      Moira looks to Jesse, and that’s when Lúcio notices his expression; he looks furious. For a moment, Lúcio is terrified of what he will do.

      He finally sheaths his daggers and marches up to the officer, getting right in his face. “In exchange for your life, you will pass a message on to teyrn Talon.”

      “Y-yes!” the officer sputters, “yes! Of course!”

      “Tell him the Grey Wardens know what _really_ happened at Ostagar.”

      “O-ok, I’ll tell him! Thank you!”

      Talon’s officers leave the tavern, and with that, the talk and atmosphere returns.

      “I’m sorry for interfering like that,” the sister says, “but I couldn’t just sit by and not help.”

      “And where does a cloistered sister learn to fight like that?” Moira demands.

      The sister smiles warmly, placing her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t born in the Chantry, y’know. A lot of us had pretty colourful lives before we joined.” With a playful shrug, she introduces herself: “The name’s Lena, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering.”

      “Well met, Lena,” Jesse says warmly. “I’m Jesse. This here is Lúcio, a junior Warden, and uh…” he looks back at Moira briefly, “and that’s just someone who tagged along.”

      Moira’s facial expression doesn’t change.

      “So you’re really Grey Wardens then? Hmm. I suppose after what happened to your order, you’ll need all the help you can get. That’s why I’ll be joining you.”

      “Excuse me?” Moira sneers. Jesse watches Lena curiously.

      Lúcio clears his throat. “We have a dangerous job ahead of us. Are you sure about that?”

      “Of course I am. The Maker said you’d need my help.”

      Lúcio swears he hears the whole tavern become quieter.

      “The Maker?” Jesse ekes out.

      “I had a dream,” Lena declares. “No, a vision!”

      Moira snorts behind him. “Sorry _da’len,_ but there is only room enough for one rambling fool, and we already have Jesse here.”

      Lena chooses to ignore her. “Look at the people here. Look at how far this Blight has already spread. The Maker doesn’t want this. You lot are meant to do the Maker’s work. Please let me help.”

      Jesse and Lúcio look at each other. He can see Jesse thinking. Or rather, he can _hear_ it: she can fight; she has Chantry connections; she isn’t afraid to stand up for her beliefs…

      Lúcio gives Jesse a smile, and that’s all he needs.

      “Welcome aboard Lena!”

      Lena’s already large smile grows even larger. “Thank you! I won’t let you down!”

      Moira rolls her eyes. “I think the two of you may have sustained greater head injuries that I thought.”

      Before they leave the tavern, they speak to any bystanders willing to talk with them and learn that Teyrn Talon has indeed announced that the Grey Wardens betrayed them all and left the king to die. It hurts Lúcio so much. If losing all of his extended family wasn’t bad enough, the entire country of Ferelden has been told that they deserved it. The man that betrayed them and survived has forever tarnished their reputation.

      They leave the tavern with Lena and head to the highway on the other side of Lothering, when Lúcio spots of all things, a qunari. He has never seen them outside of Rivain – not even once in his ten years living in Ferelden.

      The party walks closer. Lúcio gets a good look at them: grey skin; short, dark horns; topless with a thick leather belt around their waist with simple pantaloons and simple boots. He concludes this qunari is male and not a devout follower of the Qun.

      When they’re about to pass him, Lúcio notices that the qunari is whispering into a tall cage – one that holds another qunari that shares the same nose shape and face structure as the one on the outside, but this one has facial hair and lines that would indicate age.

      Lúcio can’t help but stop suddenly and stare.

      The caged qunari looks up at Lúcio. “Leave us in peace,” he snarls.

      “I heard about this qunari,” Lena says gently. “The Revered Mother said he came to Lothering covered in blood and crying that he was a murderer.”

      “It is as your companion says,” the caged qunari grunts. “I was placed here by the Chantry.”

      “You elected to go into the cage,” the younger one says. He looks back at their party. “He thinks he is a danger to the people here, but he’s not.”

      “It does not matter,” the caged one says. “Soon the darkspawn will arrive here, and I will be dead.”

      Moira steps forward. “This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn.” She looks to both Jesse and Lúcio. “If you cannot see use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy’s sake alone.”

      “Wow, Moira,” Lúcio says, genuinely surprised, “I didn’t expect that from you.”

      She sneers as she side-eyes Jesse. “I would suggest Jesse take his place.”

      Jesse ignores her completely, and asks both qunari: “Well, what’re your names, then?”

      “We have none,” the caged qunari says plainly.

      The younger one fidgets. “We… have not used our birth names in a long time.”

      Everyone takes on a confused expression – except for Lúcio. “Uh, qunari don’t use their names; they’re addressed only by their titles.”

      “And we no longer have titles,” the caged one says sadly. “Hence, we have no names.”

      “What was your title?” Lúcio asks the older qunari.

      “Sten of the Beresaad.”

      “So, you were a soldier? Huh.” Lúcio smiles at them both. “Well, we’re finding ourselves in need of skilled help.

      “And what would you have me do?” he counters. “I have no weapon, no army, and no honour.”

      “Are you interested in seeking atonement?” Jesse asks.

      The qunari looks off into the distance, his head titled upwards proudly. “Death will be my atonement,” he says simply.

      The younger one groans. “Why must you be so dramatic?” he whines.

      Jesse steps a little closer. “There are other ways to redeem yourself, you know,” he says gently.

      The qunari sniffs. “Perhaps. What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?”

      Jesse looks at Lúcio before he turns back to answer the qunari. “We are Grey Wardens. Help us fight the Blight.”

      The younger one’s eyes go wide and excited. The older one simply blinks.

      “Surprising. Our people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens’ strength and skill… though I suppose not every legend is true.”

      “Brother!” the younger hisses.

      “Tell you boys what,” Lena says cheerily, “I will speak to the Revered Mother about releasing you for the purpose of assisting the Grey Wardens. But in exchange, we get to call you by your real names.”

      “Deal!” the younger qunari exclaims. The older one looks away with a snort.

      “Do not waste your time. As I said, I willingly put myself here. And I have no desire to share any of my names with you.” He looks towards Lena again, a thoughtful expression on his face. “However, fighting darkspawn seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here.”

      The younger insists on staying with his brother, so the four of them head back into the centre of Lothering and towards the Chantry. Lena seems rather upset.

      “To be left here to starve, or to be taken by the darkspawn.” She shakes her head. “No one deserves that. Not even a murderer.”

      They enter the Chantry and walk through the main opening towards one of the back rooms where Lena insists the Revered Mother will be.

      “Jesse McCree!” cries a voice from behind them.

      Jesse turns, stunned. Lúcio turns as well; there aren’t many people alive who know Jesse’s surname – a name he had willingly given up when he joined the Grey Wardens.

      A tall man with wide shoulders and dark features approaches them with a smile. “I thought you dead with the rest of your order!”

      “Ser… Ser Donall?” Jesse ekes out.

      “I am glad to see you survived the massacre at Ostagar!”

      “And I’m glad you don’t think the Grey Wardens traitors.”

      “Indeed I don’t. It makes no sense. The teyrn had a lot to gain with the death of the king. The Landsmeet are unimpressed. And Arl Reinhardt would set him straight were he not deathly ill.”

      Lúcio watches Jesse’s face pale.

      Ser Donall blinks. “You… you did not know?”

      Jesse shakes his head. “What happened?”

      “The arl is stricken with an illness that threatens his life. We have found no cure, either natural or magical.”

      Jesse is quiet for a few moments. “When did this happen?”

      “Not long ago. But he has gone from stable to steadily worse. The knights of Redcliffe are desperate. They have gone in search of a miracle cure – the Urn of Sacred Ashes.”

      Moira snorts, and Lena shoots her a harsh look.

      “Yes,” Ser Donall replies, “I too fear we are only chasing a fable. With each day, my hope dims.”

      “Do not let your faith waver, Ser,” Lena urges. “I’m sure all will be well.”

      “Maker willing,” he says, not sounding entirely convinced. “I must be off. It was good to see you again, Jesse. Maker watch over you.”

      “And you, Ser Donall,” Jesse replies, dipping his head.

      “Fare thee well, Wardens.”

      When Ser Donall walks out of the Chantry doors, Moira pounces. “Well, well,” she taunts.

      “I don’t want to hear it,” Jesse groans.

      “But you questioned _my_ lineage,” she counters. “I think it only fair I get to question yours, given that ‘McCree’ is not a very Antivan surname.”

      “My father was from the Free Marches. No idea where he got his name.”

      “Well, I’ll be speaking to the Revered Mother,” Lena says exasperated. “Keep chatting if you so wish.”

 _“Ma nuvenin,_ little one,” Moira smirks.

      Lúcio really doesn’t want to stay with Moira and Jesse, but he really doesn’t want to speak to a Revered Mother – he is very obviously a mage, and he doesn’t think he can deal with listening to how his existence is sin.

      He elects to wait outside of the Chantry while Lena works her magic and while Moira and Jesse bicker. It doesn’t take long for Lena to exit with Jesse and Moira trailing behind her. She has a large childlike smile on her face and holds a battered old key in her hand.

      Lúcio follows Lena to the two qunari and watches her unlock the cage door. It swings open easily, but the Qunari still stands in it. “And so it is done,” he says sombrely, his eyes on the distant hills. He then faces Jesse properly. “I shall follow you into battle. In doing so, I will find my atonement.”

      “We’re glad to have you,” Jesse says with a smile. “The both of you.”

      The older qunari steps out slowly. “May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere.”

      The party resumes their walk to the end of Lothering, now with two more accompanying them.

      “So, where to next?” Lena asks excitedly.

      “Redcliffe,” Jesse says simply.

      “Ooooh! I haven’t been that far west before! What’re we doing there?”

      “Investigating,” Lúcio replies.

      “Investigating?” Lena repeats.

      “We _were_ goin’ for assistance and soldiers from the arl, but it turns out he’s sick.”

      “I had heard about that. Poor old Arl Rinehardt.”

      “How long will it take us to walk there?” Lúcio asks.

      Jesse scratches his beard in that thoughtful way of his. “It’s been many years since I’ve been there, but from memory, it’ll take longer than two nights.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “Get ready to play get-to-know-you games around the shared campfire!”

      Lena lets out an excited squeak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ma nuvenin_ = As you say/ as you wish.
> 
> Also a quick note on the Urn of Sacred Ashes: the prophet Andraste was cremated, and her ashes were placed somewhere secret and unknown. Her ashes are thought to have magical healing powers, but the existence of the Urn is questionable; hence, it is treated as a legend rather than fact. 
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with Andraste and the Chantry's teachings, I wrote [a brief summary of all you need to know about the Dragon Age universe](http://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/post/178694255544/a-brief-history-of-thedas) in case you're a little rusty on your lore, or in case you're coming into this fic only knowing Overwatch stuff lol. Chantry stuff is under the subtitle **'Religion: The Chantry'**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qunari brother shenanigans! And Redcliffe village :)
> 
>  **EDIT:** So! It came to my attention that I was writing trans characters without including any kind of dysphoria mention! So I added a tiny scene between Jesse and Lúcio.
> 
> I also added a proper written description of the qunari bros because I realised at the time of writing, [I hadn't shared what they look like :p](http://winterartstuff.tumblr.com/post/179919989109/how-genji-and-hanzo-dress-as-fresh-tal-vashoth)
> 
>  **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Mentions of religious beliefs  
> \- Dysphoria blues  
> \- Mention of cutting tongues out  
> \- Battle scene:  
> ~ Arrows  
> ~ Stabbing  
> ~ Oil/tar  
> ~ Burning

The expedition to Redcliffe takes them four days total: three nights camping just off the Imperial Highway, and four days walking along it.

      On their first night camping, Genji, the younger qunari, sits happily at the campfire, asking everyone to tell him about themselves. Lena goes first, and Jesse learns that she lived in Orlais for a long time, earning a living as a travelling minstrel. Jesse talks briefly about Antiva, and life as a Grey Warden, then he excuses himself and goes to find Hanzo, the older qunari.

      He finds the man alone a good distance from the campfire in the dark (which seems slightly worse than Moira making her own tiny campfire well away from the rest of the party). Even in the dim lighting, Jesse can’t help but admire him; he always stands with impeccable posture, and unlike Genji who wears loose green pantaloons, Hanzo wears black tight breeches that show off large and muscled thighs. His eyes are also dark and brooding, very much unlike Genji’s pale purple eyes.

      He approaches slowly to avoid scaring the man, his eyes wandering to pointy and heavily textured horns. The tip of the left one is missing.

      “Yes?” Hanzo says when Jesse approaches. He sounds so distant and clinical, and Jesse is a little taken aback by it.

      “Uh… well, we’ll be working together, so I guess I’d like to get to know you?”

      “That is not necessary. I am fit to fight. That is all you need to know for now.”

      “Oh,” Jesse says weakly. “Very well, then.”

      He returns to the main campfire, where Lena is sitting cross-legged and talking quietly.

      “I found a lot of the Chantry folk to be pretty condescending,” she admits. Jesse doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so dejected. “I believe that the Maker is ever-present in all that we see; He reveals Himself in the beauty of His world. But when I explained it like that, I was scoffed at or laughed out of any conversation.”

      “That’s awful,” Lúcio says.

      “Yeah, well,” Lena says with a tired shrug, “they want to believe that the Maker is gone, so that when he turns his gaze on them, they feel special, or chosen or whatever.”

      “Y’know,” Jesse says, “I ain’t particularly devout, but what you say makes a lot of sense. Much more so than what the Chantry teaches.”

      “Thanks, love. Maybe I’m wrong, but it’s the Maker’s place to decide. Not men, and not the Chantry.”

      “Well said,” Jesse says. He excuses himself to get an early night. He thinks on Lena’s beliefs; it’s rather beautiful compared to what he was taught in Antiva, and compared to what he had learned from Chantries in Ferelden.

      He isn’t pondering for long – Lúcio enters their shared tent and drops heavily in a heap on his sleeping mat.

 _Uh oh,_ Jesse thinks. He recognises this kind of despair all too well. He doesn’t say anything, but he scoots himself over so that he sits beside Lúcio, and he places a comforting hand on the young man’s back.

      “I saw my face in the boiled water,” he groans into his blanket. Despite the muffling of his voice, Jesse definitely hears how down he sounds. He just rubs Lúcio’s back in as comforting a manner he can manage; he himself knows there isn’t anything that can magically terminate these moods.

      He sniffs, then turns his head so that his voice is clearer. “I thought the herbal remedy would make these feelings go away.”

      “Naw,” Jesse whispers. When he first started taking the concoction himself, it had given him hair all over his face and body, but it didn’t prevent the random bursts of inexplicable melancholy. The frequency had diminished, but the feelings had never stopped.

      But hey, he had a very cool beard now. And a deep voice. Those were victories that would never get old.

      “I know if there was a magical way to stop these feelings, we’d both be all on it. As it is, just remember how loved and valued you are, just as you are.”

      Lúcio adjusts himself so that he can place a hand on Jesse’s. “Thanks, man,” he whispers.

     The second night, Hanzo is once again on his own in the darkness. Genji must catch Jesse watching him.

      “Don’t pay him any mind,” Genji says. “Under the Qun, we don’t make idle small talk.”

      “Why are you so different?” Lúcio asks. He then immediately claps his hands over his mouth. “Oh, I said that wrong!” he moans.

      Genji just laughs. “Don’t worry about it! Honestly, it’s because I was stationed in the Free Marches for a long time. Hanzo was stuck in Seheron; he was always a lot more dedicated to the ways of the Qun than I ever was.”

      Against Genji’s advice, Jesse goes and tries his luck talking with Hanzo again.

      “Yes?” he asks again, in the same distant tone.

      “You, uh. Were you in that cage long?” Jesse curses at himself internally for being so awkward.

      “One week exactly.”

      “Wow. That’s quite a while.”

      “You need not worry; I am fit enough to fight.”

      He doesn’t see a way to prolong this conversation. He blurts out “tell me about qunari.”

      “No.”

      Jesse almost chokes with the surprise. He can’t think of much else to say but: “…Please?”

      Hanzo huffs impatiently. “People are not simple; they cannot be summarised for easy reference.”

      “O-of course,” Jesse stammers. Unable to think of anything else to say, he leaves it at that.

      The third night, Jesse leaves Hanzo alone, lest he embarrass himself again. He walks into the surrounding forest to relieve himself. When he exits the tree line, Hanzo stands there waiting for him.

      “Were you… were you watchin’ me pee?” Jesse hisses.

      “Not at all,” he replies calmly. “I was just concerned that you had no questions for me tonight.”

      “Oh.” It then occurs to Jesse that maybe Hanzo doesn’t hate him. And he feels quite badly for assuming as much just because Hanzo isn’t personable or relaxed in the same way Genji is.

      He decides to explain himself. “I thought I was bein’ a bother.”

      “If I truly found you bothersome, you would know about it in no uncertain terms.”

      Jesse gulps. “Good to know.”

      Hanzo doesn’t move; he just watches him expectantly.

      Jesse scratches his beard as he asks his next question. “You said you were in the army?”

      “Yes.”

      “Did you fight in any wars?”

      “The Qunari have always fought in wars.”

      “…Really?”

      “Yes. We have been at war since we stepped foot in the northern islands.”

      “The northern islands? Isn’t that your homeland?”

      “Not always. All I know is that Genji and I were born in Seheron. Where our people came from before that, we do not know.”

      “Wow.”

      A startled yelp from Genji causes the both of them to run back over to the main campfire.

      Genji is on his ass and staring at a burning bush. Lúcio puts it out quickly with his ice magic.

      “What in the Maker’s name-?” Jesse demands.

      Hanzo is by Genji’s side in a heartbeat, standing between him and the rest of them protectively.

      “What was that?” Lúcio asks. Despite Hanzo’s dangerous glare, Lúcio keeps talking. “I mean, you were just talking about fire, and then the bush bursts into flames? It’s almost as if…”

      Lúcio goes very quiet suddenly, and when Moira cackles, Jesse catches on too.

      “Oh, how fitting for our little group of misfits here,” she sneers.

      “You need not fear retribution from us,” Jesse says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Moira’s a much worse apostate than Genji.”

      “No, you don’t understand,” Lúcio says morosely. “Qunari chain up their mages and cut out their tongues.” He chances a glance at Hanzo, who meets his gaze. “That’s why you’re separated from the Beresaad.”

      “There is no Beresaad on these lands left,” Hanzo hisses through bared teeth. “They all died at my hand.”

      “To stop them from returning Genji to Seheron to be dealt with as per the Qun,” Lúcio states rather than asks.

      “Yes,” is all Hanzo says in response.

      “Oh, Hanzo!” Lena cries. “I sorely misjudged you.”

      “Your judgements are not important to me, tiny human.”

      “He needs to learn how to keep his gift under control,” Lúcio interjects. “That’s the most important thing right now.”

      “But we are all but arrived at Redcliffe,” Hanzo chokes out.

      “I’ll stay here with him, then.” Lúcio declares.

      It makes sense; Lúcio is a very well-trained mage who has all the patience needed to teach someone how to come into their magic. But Jesse can’t just march up to Redcliffe and demand an audience as one of two surviving Grey Wardens.

      “We can’t do that,” Jesse says sadly. “We’re appealing for help in the name of our order. The more of us we have present, the better.”

      “But the treaties-?”

      “They’re only good for the king, the Chantry, the Orzammar dwarves, and certain Dalish clans. Teyrns and arls have no obligations to Grey Wardens.”

      The party falls silent. Until Moira begins chuckling.

      “Oh, very well. I shall stay with him.”

      Everyone turns to face her, incredulous.

      “What?” she asks, looking around. “What are your concerns?”

      “Not for nothin’, Moira,” Jesse says cautiously, “but you don’t really seem the nurturin’ type.”

      “It’s ok,” Genji says with a small smile. “I’m happy to stay here with whomever. Better than accidentally setting our allies on fire.”

      “It appears,” Hanzo grouses, “that we have little choice. Though I would like to make my displeasure clear.”

      “Duly noted,” Moira taunts. “Now go to sleep. We all have a busy day tomorrow.”

 

~~~~~~

 

The next morning, four of them leave the campsite: Jesse, Lúcio, Lena, and Hanzo.

      They enter Redcliffe, and Jesse immediately feels on-edge.

      “Is it just me,” Lúcio asks, “or is it too quiet?”

      Jesse agrees. He takes them along the dirt road alongside the flowing river, where they spot a scout waiting on a small stone bridge.

      “Let’s see what’s going on here,” Jesse says cautiously. They all approach the scout; a wiry young man with a quiver on his back. He holds his bow to his side, not aimed at the ready.

       “I thought I saw travellers approaching,” he says calmly, “though I scarcely believed it. Have you come to help us?”

      The four of them share uneasy looks (except for Hanzo, who looks stoic and impassive as ever), before Lúcio asks hesitantly “…there’s a problem? Aside from the arl being unwell?”

      The scout’s face falls into a look of despair. “So you don’t know? No one out there has heard?”

      “Heard what?” Jesse asks, feeling snippy in his anxiety.

      “We haven’t heard from the castle in days. And we’re under attack; every night, monsters come out of the castle and attack us until dawn.” His lower lip quivers. “We’ve no army, no arl, and now, no king to send us help.”

      “It’s alright, love,” Lena coos. “Do you have someone in charge that we can speak to?”

      “Yes, Bann Teagan. He’s in the Chantry. I’ll take you to him.”

      The four of them follow the young scout without another word. _Monsters attacking all night, with sick Arl Reinhardt and no news from the castle?_ Jesse doesn’t want to think it, but he suspects dark forces are to blame here.

      Not only that, but there’s a Bann in charge. One that Jesse doesn’t remember.

      They head into the village proper, along more dirt roads and stone bridges until they finally reach the Chantry building. When they enter, they are lead to a man in formal clothes with a sword and shield on his back. The shield has the heraldry of Redcliffe – a grey castle turret sitting on a bright red cliff.

      “This is where I leave you,” the scout says simply. “I must return to my post.”

      “Thank you,” Lúcio says.

      They approach the man. “Greetings,” he says formally, “I am Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere.” He tilts his head. “You look a rather unusual group to say the least. Might I ask what brings you here?”

      Jesse steps forward. “We’re Grey Wardens here to see Arl Reinhardt.”

      “Grey Wardens? But I thought you’d all died with the king?” He lets out a derisive huff. “At least, that’s what teyrn Talon would have us all believe.”

      Jesse can hardly believe his ears. “You don’t believe Talon’s lies?”

      “What? That he pulled his men in order to save them? Or that Jack risked everyone’s lives for the sake of glory?”

      “Talon’s saying _what_ now?” Lúcio snaps.

      “He also says that the Grey Wardens are all traitors and murderers of the king.” At Lúcio’s indignant squawk, the Bann raises a placating hand. “I do not believe it for one second; his actions are those of a desperate man. Now, as to your mission here; you won’t be able to speak to the arl – he is gravely ill, and no one has heard news from the castle in days.”

      “Your scout mentioned monsters?” Lena prompts.

      “Yes. The attacks started a few nights ago. These… things… they surged from the castle. Every night, we drive them back, but we lose more and more fighters every time”

      “These monsters,” Hanzo asks, “are they darkspawn?”

      “No, I don’t believe so.”

      “Then there is nothing to gain here. We waste time when we could be facing the Blight.”

      “The four of us alone cannot face this Blight,” Jesse says gently, turning to face Hanzo. “If the arl lives, we will need his assistance.”

      Hanzo lets out a short grunt but says nothing else.

      With that decided, Jesse turns back to face the Bann. “We will help you fight these monsters, but after tonight, we’ll need to work on a solid plan to save Reinhardt and take the castle back.”

      “Thank you!” the Bann cries. “Maker’s blessings, thank you! There is much to do before night falls. We need to work on defences and armaments. Thomas! Get the smithy warmed up! We’ve work to do!”

 

~~~~~~

 

The sun begins setting, and the villagers of Redcliffe go into hiding. Those that are trained in arms fiddle with weapons anxiously as they wait for the monsters.

      Jesse approaches Hanzo, who has found himself a large bow and a quiver. He guesses that the quiver is of average size, but it appears tiny when on Hanzo’s broad back.

      “Yes?” he says in that same clinical tone.

      “You, uh… you don’t agree with my decision to stay here and help defend the village?”

      “My feelings on the matter are irrelevant.” He turns to face Jesse now. “Are you regretting your decision? Are you feeling uncertain?”

      “No, not at all. I was just wondering if you weren’t happy with that decision.” He mentally scolds himself for sounding so awkward.

      “I said that I would fight alongside you. The only time that will change is if you become uncertain in your decisions.”

      “Really?”

      “Yes. And if that happens, I will suggest you step down and allow someone else to lead.”

      “Good to know, Hanzo.” Jesse leaves the conversation there, and goes to find Lena to see how she’s preparing.

      When the last of the sun’s rays disappear, an unnatural chill falls over the village. An icy wind flows through, even though Redcliffe is in a valley.

      “There!” a villager cries, pointing to the slender wooden bridge that leads into the castle’s courtyard. Jesse sees many bodies surrounded by a pale green smoke. He hears their heavy footsteps and inhuman cries get louder as they come closer to the village.

      They wait for the monsters at the dirt road near the village’s windmill. Jesse sees the first ones approaching; thin corpses more bone than flesh, with very little armour covering them.

      An arrow lodges itself into the head of a helmetless monster, and it drops immediately.

      “Go for the heads!” Jesse bellows. And it works initially, but when the slower monsters finally catch up, they all wear helmets and have a lot more flesh on them. When they screech, the pale green smoke oozes out of their mouths. It smells like death and despair.

      They hold for a time, but after what feels like an hour of fighting corpses, they just keep coming.

      “Fall back!” one of the knights orders. “Fall back across the bridge! We have traps set up!”

      Jesse takes the lead, and they retreat. As they get behind the barricade, villagers in armour throw flasks onto the ground; the glass shatters and leaves a thick shiny layer of oil on the ground.

      A lot of monsters slide along it and get impaled on the barricades, and when the oil is worn down they set it on fire.

      But still, more monsters come.

      They keep fighting and fighting. It feels like endless hours of cutting and stabbing and dodging, and Jesse can feel his body slowing down. He can see that Hanzo is out of arrows and is now beating the monsters with his bare hands. Lena pants loudly, her blade work becoming more frenzied and less accurate. Lúcio is just about out of magical energy, and his ice spells are weaker and simpler.

      Jesse cuts down the last monster in front of him and looks around for more. But there are none. He looks to the castle bridge, but there is no more green smoke.

      “We’ve won,” he says breathlessly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh! I'm a day late posting the weekly update D: And sadly, December fast approaches, which means lil sister's bday, uncle Eddie's bday, Christmas, big bro's bday, then New Years. Like, in terms of family shite, December is even worse than September for me D: So I'm hoping to update on a fortnightly schedule, but we will have to wait and see :/
> 
> Aaaaaanyway, please enjoy the next chapter! And I would advise re-reading the last one, as I added some important stuffs at the start of the chapter. 
> 
> **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Demonic possession  
> \- Fighting scenes:  
> ~ Stabbing  
> ~ Arrows  
> ~ Combat magic  
> -

“Do you think something went wrong?” Genji asks.

      “Most certainly,” Moira says with an amused lilt.

      He’ll never understand her – she seems to find endless amusement in the misfortune of others. As if to prove this, Moira places a single fingernail on his upturned palm, giving him a small zap of electricity.

      “You lost focus,” she says to his startled cry.

      “I’m worried! No one returned last night, and anything could have happened!”

      Moira completely ignores him. “Again.”

      Genji looks down at his palms, willing them to catch fire as easily as that poor bush had. “Can’t I channel my magic with a staff like Lúcio?”

      “What? And be reliant on a flimsy branch? Not under my tutelage.”

      Genji groans – this is going to be a _long_ day.

 

~~~~~~

 

Lúcio wakes feeling well-rested, despite their ordeal last night. He sits up carefully and looks over to Jesse; he appears to be sleeping, but Lúcio knows better than to assume he’s not actually awake. Another reason he always felt safe when bunking with the man – he was a light sleeper, and always kept a dagger under his pillow.

      He gets up carefully and dresses in the faint light of dawn. He hears Jesse stir, and waits for him to get up and dress before leaving their room. They head downstairs to the main floor of the pub, where villagers are gathered looking morose. _That’s right,_ Lúcio thinks, _the morning service for the fallen soldiers will start soon._

      When Lena and Hanzo finally arrive downstairs, everyone heads out and towards the Chantry. The villagers gather in front of the steps that lead to the decorated doors of the building, and at the top of the stairs stands Bann Teagan and a few knights. He waves their party over and asks that they stand beside him.

      He gives a brief speech, and again, Lúcio tunes out. It’s become a bad habit of his, to have his mind wander whenever Fereldan nobility begin speaking.

      He pays a little more attention to the Revered Mother, who asks for the Maker’s blessing for those who gave their lives defending Redcliffe.

      When the service is over, Bann Teagan asks their party to follow him to the lone windmill on the other side of the village. When they arrive, he draws their attention to a door in the windmill’s side. “There’s a passageway in there that will lead you to the castle’s wine cellar. Arl Reinhardt entrusted me with this information in case of an emergency.”

      “Convenient,” Lúcio says brightly.

      “Indeed. I propose you sneak in while I go to the main entrance as a…” Teagan’s mouth drops open as his eyes focus on something behind them. “By the Maker, it’s the arlessa!”

 _What?_ Lúcio turns around and sees a middle-aged woman with dark skin and silver hair underneath a cloth head-covering running towards them. When she gets closer, Lúcio notices an eye patch over one eye, and small black tattoo under her visible eye. She wears a formal dress, but she runs without any hindrance, and under the full-length skirt, Lúcio spots heavy boots.

      “Bann Teagan!” she calls. She stops in front of their party. “I managed to get away, but I will not have much time. I-” Her eye lands on Jesse, and she whispers his full name under her breath.

      “Ana,” Jesse says with a sad smile. “How I wish we could have reunited under much better circumstances.”

      The woman nods shortly. “Agreed. I will not waste time, then. A great evil has overtaken the castle. Dead soldiers patrol the hallways and have kept the living in hiding. And when I tried to leave with Fareeha to get word out, she refused. Something has happened to her.” The arlessa loses her tough demeanour for a second. “I cannot reason with her, and I do not know what else to do.”

      Bann Teagan steps closer hesitantly. “I am sorry dear lady, but I must ask: does the arl still live?”

      “Yes. He is being kept alive.”

      “Kept alive? By what means?”

      “By whatever evil has been unleashed,” she says, exasperated. “Thus far, it has kept the three of us alive. It killed all the soldiers and their corpses are now its puppets, but the house staff that have managed to stay hidden still live. For how much longer I do not know. But once it was done with the castle, it struck the village.”

      “This sounds like a demon of some kind,” Lúcio says seriously. “Are there any mages in your castle?”

      Ana swallows thickly and gives a quick nod. “Fareeha, my daughter, showed signs of the gift. In this country, magi are prisoners. I couldn’t allow that. I payed a private tutor to teach her how to hide her gift. Whether it was Fareeha or the tutor that summoned the demon I am unsure.”

      “And how was it that you were allowed to leave?” Hanzo asks.

      “This creature speaks through my Fareeha. I convinced it to allow me to leave for a quick word with the Bann to let him know the arl lives. And now that is done, I will be on my way back.”

      Teagan protests immediately. “You are safe now, Arlessa. You mustn’t go back.”

      She isn’t a very tall woman, but when she pulls her shoulders back and stares Teagan down with her single eye, she is very intimidating. “I will not abandon my husband and child for my own safety. I _will_ go back, and not you, nor my knights will stop me.”

      “At least allow me to follow you back. Perhaps I can keep the creature occupied while these brave souls sneak in through the basement.”

      Ana looks over all of them. “You would risk your lives…?”

      “Without the king, Reinhardt is our best bet against Talon,” Jesse says quickly. It sounds rather cold coming from him, given that the arl is an old friend, but to Lúcio, it looks like the arlessa sees right through it, and she offers Jesse a genuine smile.

      With that, Ana and Teagan head back towards the castle while the rest of them enter the windmill. Lúcio is rather comfortable standing, but Lena stoops slightly. Jesse stoops more, and poor Hanzo is just about bent at a 90 degree angle.

      There are hay bales and heavy barrels in the way of the secret passage. In an unspoken agreement, all four of them begin moving things out of the way.

      “So you know the arl _and_ the arlessa?” Lena whispers as she works.

      “Yep,” Jesse replies simply.

      “It was my understanding,” Hanzo rasps, “that Grey Wardens have no political ties. How are you familiar with nobility?”

      “It’s a long story,” Jesse says dismissively.

      “Cut out the boring parts, then,” Lúcio prompts. He’d never heard this one before.

      “We’re about to head into a haunted castle to confront an evil we know nothin’ about!”

      “So speak quickly,” Hanzo insists. His request comes as a surprise to Lúcio, and when he looks up at the man, he can definitely see an amused tilt to his mouth.

      Jesse looks up at him curiously before his mouth twists into a playful smirk. “This is payback fer me askin’ you all those questions, ain’t it?”

      Hanzo doesn’t respond, but his smile grows bigger. Jesse sighs theatrically in response, still smirking.

      “I tried to run away from the Wardens in my first year. And as punishment, I was sent to be a liaison with Redcliffe. I helped negotiate trades and favours between the Arl of Redcliffe and the Grey Wardens, and when my 6 months was up, I didn’t want to leave.”

      “You did not try to run away again?” Hanzo asks.

      “Nope. Arl Reinhardt was too nice. And the arlessa too. She used to be a spymaster, so we spent a lot of time throwin’ daggers at targets an’ trying to sneak up on each other. Even with only one eye, I could never get the drop on her.”

      Jesse hauls the last barrel out of the way. A very conspicuous lump of hay sits neatly on the floor. Without another word between them, they shuffle the hay off the trap door and enter the passage as quietly as possible.

      They descend a spiral stone staircase, which leads into a stone hallway. Lúcio knows that stone basements are usually cool and damp, but the air feels heavy to him, and instead of just dampness, he can smell something rotten and foul. He looks at the rest of his party: Jesse has his dominant hand on the hilt of his dagger; Hanzo has his bow in his hand instead of across his chest; Lena keeps her narrow dagger in her hand. Lúcio decides to remove his staff from where it attaches to his robes and keep it ready in his hand.

      Together, they stride up to the door leading beyond. When they open it, they see armoured corpses hissing and swatting at a cage. Lúcio doesn’t bother to take in all of the other cages in the room; instead he summons a glyph of ice right underneath the three corpses. They freeze momentarily, and when they begin moving again, they do so slowly. The other three end them each quickly.

      “We should check each cell for survivors,” Jesse whispers.

      “Hello?” a desperate voice cries out. “Is there anyone alive out there?”

      The four of them all share an uneasy look, but they approach the cell closest to the exit anyway. Lúcio sees a young man in mage’s robes; greens and mustards, which means he’s a Circle mage who has recently passed his apprenticeship.

      The mage eyes them all suspiciously. “You don’t look like the arlessa’s guards. Are you from outside the castle?”

      “We will ask the questions here,” Hanzo declares.

      Jesse steps forward, a look of realisation on his face. “Hey, I saw you at Ostagar with the Circle mages!”

      The mage nods. “I escaped Ostagar and went into hiding. That’s when the arlessa found me. In exchange for protection as an apostate, I agreed to tutor her daughter. That is, until I was thrown into the dungeon.”

      “Are you responsible for all this?” Hanzo asks coldly, gesturing to the armoured corpses they had felled.

      “No! I…” His voice shrinks and Lúcio has to strain his ears to hear him. “I only poisoned the arl.”

      Jesse gets entirely too close to the bars. “You what?” he growls, dangerously low.

      The mage takes a step back. “I… I was paid to slip poison into the arl’s ale. But that’s all! The creatures and… and all of that only started after I was imprisoned.”

      Hanzo stands beside Jesse. “So. The arlessa offered you haven and sanctuary from persecution, and this is how you chose to repay her.”

      “The coin came from teyrn Talon himself! How was I to refuse?”

      Hearing that the teyrn is organising the assassination of such a strong Grey Warden ally gets Lúcio’s stomach all tied up in knots.

      “I say we kill the mage,” Hanzo asserts. “He cannot be trusted.”

      “Wait a second!” Lena says. “He’s secure in this cell. Surely he can be dealt with after we clear the castle?”

      The mage agrees. “Please give me a chance!” he begs.

      “To do what?” Jesse snaps. “Poison the arlessa, and maybe little Fareeha too?”

      Lúcio steps in. “I think he should stay here until we clear the castle.”

      Jesse and Hanzo reluctantly agree, and their party moves away from the cells and further into the basement. More stone walls and cells, but no more fighting corpses. They reach the end where another spiral stone staircase greets them. This one leads up.

      They follow it up onto the main level where stone walls are replaced by drywall and wooden beams.

      “Now,” Jesse whispers, “it’s been a long time since I was last here, but I should be able to get us to the main hall.”

      “We’re right behind you, love,” Lena encourages.

      Jesse leads them through a door that takes them into a narrow hallway with several more doors.

      “Huh,” he says. “Let’s try this one.” He reaches for the first door in front of them and opens it. Inside is a large entertainment area with decorative walls. It’s eerily silent.

      Suddenly an ungodly shriek fills the room, and before their eyes, dark dust swirls and out of it emerge bent serpentine creatures with muscled arms and clawed fingers. Lúcio had read about these creatures: shades – the physical manifestation of a demon outside of the Fade with no body to possess.

      The shades float towards them as if swimming through the very air. The party cut and fire at them while avoiding their slicing and clawing. Lúcio hits them with his ice magic, which slows them down considerably.

      When the last of the creatures dies and dissipates into heavy dark smoke, the party check themselves: Lena is pretty much unharmed thanks to her arm bracers; Jesse has a few small cuts on his face, but his armour took the brunt of the shade’s claws; Lúcio got a bit too close and received a few good slices to his arms and robes, but nothing a little healing magic couldn’t fix; and Hanzo is completely fine -- the creatures couldn’t land a single blow on him.

      They search the room, but it leads nowhere – there are no other doors leading out, aside from the one they walked in through. They turn back and re-enter the hallway. Jesse turns the corner first, entering through the next door. In it are walking corpses that appear to be dressed in simple clothes. _The house staff,_ Lúcio thinks sadly. They end the corpses quickly and easily, then they search the room. It looks to be the staff’s dining quarters. There’s nothing of interest in there, so they press on.

      They check every room for survivors, but find only enchanted corpses. At least they get to see just how talented Hanzo is with a bow; Lúcio isn’t sure how he manages it, but he can fire several arrows in quick succession, and when corpses get too close, he can easily knock them down with his bow.

      “Can you teach me how to shoot like you?” Lena asks him as they head through yet another corridor. “I used to be a skilled archer, but then I broke my arm and I had to make do with Cecilie here.” She twirls her dagger with a flourish.

      Hanzo considers her, then with a small smile announces, “we shall see.”

      Lena seems to take it as a resounding ‘yes’ with the way she beams and continues walking with a spring in her step.

      “How big _is_ this place?” Lúcio asks. It feels like they’ve been walking for hours.

      “This is just the servant’s quarters.”

_“What?”_

      “We’re not even in the main castle yet.” He opens a door that leads outdoors and points. Lúcio goes to look. It’s a simple courtyard with no plants and lots of stone. But across from there he can see the castle; it’s plain, unlike old Tevinter architecture, but it looks solid and imposing nonetheless.

      “Be on your guard,” Hanzo warns. “There could be more monsters in wait.”

      They exit the servant’s area slowly and walk along the outskirts of the courtyard. When it looks all clear and they begin to head up the stairs towards the castle, Lúcio feels a sudden uneasiness.

      He turns and looks back over the courtyard, but he sees nothing.

      “What is it?” Jesse whispers.

      “I don’t know,” Lúcio admits. “Nothing good.”

      “If it is nothing, then let us be-”

      Hanzo doesn’t get to finish before he’s interrupted by what sounds like a distorted growl. It’s followed by weak screeches that sound like they’re coming from several bodies, and before they can react, several animated skeletons are running up the stairs after them.

      The skeletons go down quickly, but the source of Lúcio’s unease makes itself known; a tall creature in rusted brown armour walks forward menacingly. The gaps in its armour show pale and pink rotted flesh, and two red dots glow brightly from within its tall spiked helmet.

      It stops at the base of the stairs and raises its rusted shield, smacking it with a long and cruelly twisted sword.

      “What is that thing?” Jesse whispers hoarsely.

      “A Revenant. The corpse of a soldier possessed by a demon. We need to kill it quickly-”

      The Revenant lifts its shield and with a burst of kinetic magic, pulls Lúcio down. His body hits every step as he falls to the creature’s feet.

      His vision swims, and he tries to focus, but all he can see is a blob of brown with two very distinct red eyes. The blob disappears unexpectedly, and Lúcio stands quickly, focussing his vision. That’s when he sees Jesse right in front of the creature. It shoots him backwards with the same kinetic magic, and Hanzo lands a quick arrow in its unprotected stomach. The creature doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even cry out. It comes for Lúcio again.

      He freezes it solid with an ice spell, which allows Lena to get behind it and wedge her dagger in the gaps between the ice crystals. She only gets a few stabs in before the crystals shatter and the Revenant turns to face her.

      Hanzo buries it in arrows, and Lúcio keeps hitting it with ice magic and spells to induce weakness and vulnerabilities.

      Jesse reappears in a puff of smoke in front of the creature and slices at its exposed front. It jabs its sword at him, but he deflects the blow and steps away. Meanwhile, Lena and Hanzo are still hitting it with everything they have.

      It turns and bashes Lena with its shield, sending her backwards and down. It then looks to Hanzo and pulls him down the stairs very much like it did Lúcio. As he tumbles, Jesse continues slicing at its exposed flank, and Lena is back up and slipping her dagger in between armour plating.

      It finally dies. The four of them come together to check for any injuries. Lena is bruised from where she got whacked; Hanzo and Lúcio both are a little sore from rolling down the stairs; Jesse seems fine.

      No wounds or broken bones. Lúcio casts a simple healing spell on all of them to lift their spirits. They climb up the stairs and continue into the castle. They enter the main hall and find Bann Teagan.

      The party stop abruptly. Teagan appears to be dancing for the arlessa, a child, and a small number of knights. The child applauds and laughs, and when Teagan finishes, he bows, then goes to sit beside her.

      The child looks at them. She looks as if she’s at the start of her teenage years based on her height and her muscled arms. She has short black hair with a fringe, the same skin tone as her mother, but her brown eyes look glassy and distant.

      “So these are our visitors?” she says in a voice that is unnaturally deep and harsh. “The ones who defeated the soldiers I sent to reclaim the village?”

      “Yes, your radiance!” Teagan brays.

      “Well, then. We need an appropriate punishment for this kind of treachery.”

      “Fareeha, please,” Ana whispers. Her tough demeanour is gone. “I beg you; don’t hurt anyone.”

      “Get away from me, fool woman!” the child yells, her head twisted towards Ana at an uncomfortable angle. “You are beginning to bore me!”

      Ana turns to their party. “She isn’t responsible for what she has done. Please do not hold her in poor esteem because of this.”

      “My Lady,” Lúcio says sadly, “she has been possessed. She is an abomination.”

      “But it was not Fareeha who summoned the demon! It was that mage who poisoned my husband that did this!”

      Lúcio tries to explain as delicately as he can manage. “She made some kind of deal. That’s how she came to be possessed.”

      “It was a fair deal!” the child snaps, looking directly at Lúcio. “We made a trade; I get to run the castle and send out armies to conquer the world, and the arl is kept alive.” She staggers forward with a cruel scowl, eyes never leaving Lúcio’s. “You want an audience with she who runs the castle? Here I am! What have you come here for?”

      Lúcio holds the stare. “We came to stop you.”

      “No! I have not finished playing! Mother! These creatures are trying to spoil my fun!”

      “Fareeha,” Ana whimpers, “I… I don’t think…”

      “These monsters spoiled my fun by saving that stupid village! I demand repayment!”

      Bann Teagan stands and draws his sword and shield. The knights also arm themselves. Fareeha runs away, and Ana stays to fight.

      “Don’t kill anyone!” she cries as she throws a solid punch to the back of a knight’s head. He goes down heavy. “Try to knock them out!”

      They do as she says, avoiding doing lasting harm and just knocking everyone out cold. When all the threats are neutralised, Ana runs straight to Teagan. His eyes are already fluttering, and she offers him a hand up.

      “Are you alright, Teagan?”

      “I am… I think. My mind is my own again, at least.”

      Ana nods, then her face falls. “Fareeha is not responsible for all of this. There must be some way we can save her.”

      Jesse looks to Lúcio expectantly. “Demonic possession. What’re our options?”

      Lúcio swallows; there’s no easy solution. “When a mage becomes an abomination, there are only two options: one, kill the host-”

      “No,” Ana snaps harshly. “I would rather die than let that happen.”

      “Option two,” Lúcio continues shakily: “get a group of magi to perform a ritual. They can get a mage to enter the Fade and confront the demon there.”

      “…And this second option… would it hurt Fareeha?”

      “I don’t believe so. Remember, the demon isn’t attached to her _physically_ – it approached her in the Fade as she dreamt, and it controls her from there.”

      Ana draws in a shaky breath. “You can enter this Fade… and kill the demon without hurting my baby?”

      “Yes. Provided we have magi and enough lyrium to perform the ritual, I can enter and end the demon in there.”

      Bann Teagan hums. “Lyrium and magi. We’ll need to go to the Circle Tower for that. It’s a day’s journey from here.”

      “Then that’s our next stop,” Jesse says decisively.

      “We must run even more errands for these people?” Hanzo grouses.

      “We could go to the tower ourselves,” Ana says with a shrug. “But then you would have to babysit a possessed child to make sure she doesn’t send corpses to attack the village again.”

 _“Parshaara,”_ Hanzo sighs. “I will go along. But I would like my displeasure to be noted.”

      They go back to their campsite, where Genji waits eagerly.

      “Oh, you’re all ok!” he cries, wrapping Hanzo in a big hug. The elder qunari just grunts in response.

      “And how did it all go?” Moira asks with her usual mocking tone.

      “Not great,” Jesse grouses, rubbing his beard nervously. “There was a… a situation.”

      Lena eagerly steps in to recount their time in Redcliffe, down to every last detail with excitement and zeal. Lúcio now sees passed the ‘cloistered sister’ thing and definitely believes that she was a successful minstrel in Orlais.

      “And then it turns out that the arlessa’s daughter is an abomination that sent the monsters into the village!”

      “My, my,” Moira purrs. “Whatever will they do?”

      “We’re heading to the Circle tower next,” Lúcio adds. “We need mages for an exorcism.”

      “And why are we running this errand?” Moira asks, waiving her hand in an impatient circle.

      “Because we’d be gettin’ two things out of the way,” Jesse says impatiently. He lifts his index finger. “One: we’re helping the arlessa, and two: we need to recruit the mages anyway. We might as well make that stop while we’re in the area doing somethin’ else.”

      Moira seems satisfied with his response. “Very well. I would like to come to the Circle Tower with you. It will be amusing to see.”

      “Good,” Genji grumbles. “No more annoying exercises.”

      Lúcio happily volunteers to take over for Moira with Genji’s lessons. And he tries very hard to tell himself that it’s purely to help Genji, and not because he finds the younger qunari very endearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read extensively on demons of the Fade and how they look in the mortal realm, here are some cool entries from the Dragon Age Wiki page:  
> [\- Shades](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Shade)  
> [\- Revenants](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Revenant)  
> [\- General overview of demons](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Demon)
> 
> Also, _parshaara_ is the Qunlat word for 'enough'. Hanzo will be saying it _a lot_ in this series lmao.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circle Tower antics! I chose to cut out a lot of the battles because there are _a lot_ of them, and they're quite repetitive.
> 
> Also, I've aged Angela liek 15-20 years because 1) Wynne, and 2) older women are badasses lol
> 
> **Content Warnings:**  
>  \- Blood magic  
> \- Demonic possession  
> \- Reanimated corpses  
> \- Stabbing / fight scenes

After everyone leaves for the Circle tower, Genji starts his lesson by being handed what looks to be a battered old stick with metal bracings.

      “Is this a staff?”

      “Yep. It helps to have something physical that you can hold in order to channel your magic.”

      Genji pouts thoughtfully. “Moira said that it’s better to learn not to rely on a staff?”

      Lúcio looks away from Genji, a conflicted expression on his face. “Moira doesn’t get her magical energy from the Fade like we do. So for her, it’s easier to not use a staff.”

      “What?” Genji’s head hurts. He wished he had learned the basics of magic at a much younger age to avoid all of this confusion. “I thought all mages channelled the Fade?”

      Lúcio presses his lips into a thin line, then whispers “blood mages don’t.”

      “Blood… mages?”

      “Mages that cut out the Fade completely and get energy from life force. Either their own, or that of those around them.”

      Genji can’t help the light shudder that runs down his spine. “That is how she uses magic?”

      “For her death magic, yes. With her electrical and healing, I assume she uses conventional magic. Although, I would rather not ask.”

      “That is fair,” Genji says simply. He too would rather not know more of Moira; she already sets him on edge as it is.

      “Ok!” Lúcio calls, a friendly smile on his face, “shall we get started?”

 

~~~~~~

 

They reach Lake Calenhad docks by nightfall. The moon is bright and high in the dark sky. Despite not coming up against any trouble, Lena holds her new bow in her hands eagerly. It looks properly sized now that Hanzo isn’t holding it between pinched fingers and whispering ‘so tiny’ (which is something Jesse found completely adorable).

      They head towards the pier in the hopes of getting a boat to the tower. A lone templar stands there next to a large boat that would probably fit ten people on it.

      Jesse looks back at the party. “Let me do the talkin’,” he says with a sly smile. Moira rolls her eyes, Lena chuckles, and Hanzo doesn’t seem to react. He probably did, in his own way, which means Jesse needs to get much better at picking up on his cues.

      _Mind on the mission,_   he thinks. He approaches the templar with a smile.

      “You!” the templar barks. “You’re not looking to go to the tower, are you? Because I have strict instructions not to let anyone through!”

      “Good evenin’ to you too,” Jesse drawls, trying to keep his tone friendly. “Listen handsome, we got Grey Warden business in the tower.”

      “Oh, a Grey Warden?” the templar sneers. “Prove it.”

      _‘Prove it’? Really?_   “I mean, if you got darkspawn around, I can slay them without getting any taint sickness.”

      “No, no darkspawn around here. Now on your way.”

      “You will let us pass,” Moira demands with her signature smirk, “or I will turn you into a toad.”

      “Woman, I am a templar stationed in the Circle tower – your magic doesn’t scare me.”

      Hanzo steps forward. “And how about brute force? Does that frighten you?”

      “Are you threatening me?”

      Hanzo cracks his knuckles in response.

      “Ok, this is getting out of hand!” Lena announces. She walks up to the templar. “Ser Knight, are you aware that the Grey Wardens have the Right of Conscription?”

      The templar narrows his eyes. “Yes, I am aware.”

      “And your Knight-Commander, are they aware of this right?”

      “Yes, Knight-Commander Greagoir is not a fool.”

      “So it stands to reason that Greagoir wouldn’t take kindly to a templar turning Grey Wardens away, thus barring them from one of their fundamental rights.”

      “You think Greagoir would be upset with me for not letting you in?” He snorts a laugh. Then he pauses. “Wait… actually, he would.”

      “Yes, I suspect he would,” Lena says, rather gently.

      The templar sighs. “Very well. Get in the boat, I suppose.”

      When his back is turned, Jesse punches Lena’s shoulder playfully and mouths the word ‘amazing’ to her. She beams.

      The templar rows them over without another word. They reach the Circle tower in a matter of minutes. When they walk through the doors and enter the tower, there are templars everywhere.

      “This does not bode well,” Moira says. But rather than sounding disturbed, she sounds amused.

      They spot an older templar in ornate armour and no helmet issuing orders. He has short grey facial hair and messy shoulder-length grey hair. That must be the Knight-Commander. Jesse walks straight to him.

      “…I want it made clear that no one is to open those doors without my express consent!” he barks.

      “Yes, Ser,” the templar muffles under their helmet. They walk off, and that’s when Jesse makes his move.

      “You’re Knight-Commander Greagoir I assume?”

      “Who are you? I explicitly told Carroll to not allow anyone across the lake!” He pinches the bridge of his nose with two armoured fingers. “It’s too late now, I suppose. We are dealing with a very delicate situation here. For your own safety, I would advise you leave.”

      Jesse stands as straight as he can manage. “We’re Grey Wardens in need of assistance.”

      Greagoir lets out a tired groan. “I am weary of the Grey Wardens’ ceaseless need for people to fight the darkspawn. But it is their right.” He straightens, his tone becoming more business-like. “You’ll find no allies here. The tower is no longer under our control, and as such the mages nor us templars can offer you any assistance.”

      “What exactly has happened here?” Moira asks with a smile.

      Greagoir eyes her cautiously but answers her anyway. “Abominations and demons stalk the tower’s halls. We know not what happened, only that demons were hunting templars and mages alike. When I realised we could not defeat them all, I pulled my templars out and sealed the doors.” He lets out a tired sigh. “I have called for the Right of Annulment.”

      “The Right of Annulment,” Lena repeats carefully. “I’ve heard of this, but I’m uncertain of what it involves.”

      “The tower and everything in it is obliterated,” Greagoir answers. His shoulders sink. “The mages are probably all dead at this point, and any abominations remaining must be dealt with no matter what.”

      “Is there no alternative?” Lena asks.

      “Not in a situation this dire. Everything must be destroyed so that it can be made safe again.”

      “I think they should go ahead and destroy this entire sordid building,” Moira says, looking around with clear disdain.

      Jesse turns to face her. “We need mages for the ritual.”

      “All we need is lyrium,” she counters.

      The Knight-Commander gives her a filthy look. “You cannot get lyrium legally outside of the Circle.”

      “Give some to us, then.”

      “Or,” Jesse interjects, trying to break the tension, “we could go in there and clear the tower out. Surely your mages aren’t completely defenceless?”

      Greagoir doesn’t lose his indignant expression. “An abomination is _not_ a force to be reckoned with. And you will face more than one.”

      “Grey Wardens are no strangers to dealing with dark forces, Knight-Commander,” Jesse says with a smile.

      Greagoir sighs. “True enough. If you succeed, I will pledge my templars to your cause. But remember: if you choose to cross that threshold, there is no turning back. Those doors must remain barred, and I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe.”

      “What proof do you require?” Moira demands.

      “The first enchanter must stand before me and tell me all is well again. And if he has fallen…” Greagoir clenches his jaw, trying to keep the emotion from his face. “If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is lost and must be destroyed.”

      “Then we have a deal,” Jesse says.

      “Before you agree to anything, Senior Warden,” Moira interrupts, “I would request a quick team meeting.”

      They gather in a huddle away from Greagoir, all four of them tall but bent slightly to minimise being overheard.

      “There is a third option,” Moira whispers. “Without lyrium.”

      Jesse furrows his brow. “I thought that was the easiest way to get energy from the Fade?”

      “…You can bypass the Fade and draw energy from elsewhere.”

      Jesse feels his heart speed up, and he clenches his fists. “You are _not_ suggesting blood magic right now!” he hisses.

      “If we wish to be expedient, we either kill the child, or use the life force of someone else to free her of her demon.”

      “Neither of those are options!”

      “We have a Blight to deal with,” Hanzo chimes in. “We cannot waste time running errands for others.”

      “If we want the arl’s help, we need to keep his family alive.”

      “Do you not have treaties for other armies?” Hanzo challenges. “Why is the arl’s assistance so vital to defeating the darkspawn?”

      Jesse swallows thickly. He supposes he should have laid his cards on the table much earlier than this, and he hopes that Hanzo doesn’t hate him for it. “This country runs on the whims of the nobility and their politics. The teyrn would have us arrested and executed before we could ever deal with the Blight. We need Arl Reinhardt to talk for us as an esteemed member of the Landsmeet so that we can go ahead and face this Blight without a civil war behind us.”

      Hanzo looks at him with what Jesse interprets as disappointment, and it makes him feel terribly. He begins to ramble, to try and justify his reasoning.

      “I know it’s ridiculous, and in an ideal world, everyone would come together with no troubles to end this Blight, but that’s not the reality we live in. We need to play the game if we are to be successful. And I hate it, but we need to stop this Blight before it gets too serious.”

      Hanzo’s expression still doesn’t change, and Jesse doesn’t know what else he could possibly say that might appease him. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Hanzo cuts him off.

      “If we are to follow this plan, then let us proceed. No point wasting any more time.”

      He feels that Hanzo is mad with him, and it leaves him feeling unsettled.

      Jesse asks Moira and Lena to go ahead and tell Greagoir that they agree to his terms. They leave the two of them.

      “You ok with this?”

      “My feelings are irrelevant.”

      “I know that’s how you feel, but I beg to disagree.” That statement causes Hanzo to look at him properly. “You want to do Moira’s ritual instead?”

      Hanzo looks Jesse dead in the eyes. It’s when Jesse notices that his eyes are a much deeper purple than Genji’s; he almost mistook them for dark brown like his.

      “I believe we should take the path of least resistance, given that the templars are handling this, albeit poorly, and you as a Warden have the Blight to deal with.” He rolls his shoulder, looking away from Jesse’s face. “As it is, I am at your service.”

      “You don’t have to be locked in there with us if you’re not comfortable with it.”

      Hanzo faces him again, but with a fierce expression. “Have I given you the impression that I am weak?”

      “What? No! Not at all! I just…” Jesse places his hands on his hips and takes in a deep breath. He feels like no matter what he says, it’ll upset Hanzo. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” He takes in another deep breath before returning his gaze to Hanzo’s face, but his expression is unreadable.

      “Your concern… touches me,” he says, in a tone that is soft and sincere. It is probably the most emotion Jesse has heard in his voice since they began travelling together. It leaves him feeling a lot better.

      He offers the man a gentle smile, then tilts his head towards the Knight-Commander. “Shall we?”

      “We shall,” Hanzo replies, returning the smile. They re-join Lena and Moira, and Jesse lets Greagoir know that they’re ready to proceed.

      “Maker watch over you,” Greagoir says.

      They walk through the heavy main doors, and when they slam shut behind him, Jesse lifts his chin and moves forward. He’s looking at a stone corridor that curves in a circular fashion off to the left. _Circle tower indeed,_   he thinks to himself. On their right are open doors that are shaped like pointed arches.

      The four of them inspect each room carefully, weapons at the ready. They find no demons in any of the multipurpose rooms. They move through the curved hallway until they reach a closed door that blocks off the rest of the hallway.

      Jesse looks back at the party with a hand on the door. Lena and Hanzo both draw arrows and hold their bows at the ready while Moira braces herself.

      They head in and find a small group of mages huddled together. They put their weapons away when one of the mages stands. She has a wrinkled face and wears her blonde hair in a messy ponytail. She stands protectively in front of the other mages. And unlike them, her robes are deep red and more ornate.

      “Stop right there,” she orders. Her voice sounds gentle and patient, but Jesse can hear the threat behind it.

      “Be calm,” Lena says, walking forward with her hands raised gently. “We mean you no harm.”

      The mage looks over all of them, then nods. “I am Angela, mage of the Circle tower, and these children are under my protection.”

      Jesse looks back at the frightened mages, and he notices that the older ones he mistook for adults have the awkward faces of teenagers.

      “Now who are you, and what is your purpose here? Why did the templars allow you entry?”

      Jesse rubs his jaw embarrassed. “We, uh. We’re here because we need the help of mages.”

      The woman sniffs. “As you can see, the Circle is in no shape to help.”

      “We’re hopin’ we can clear the tower before the Right of Annulment arrives.”

      “So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope.” Her head drops. “He probably thinks us all dead. They abandoned us to our fate.”

      “But Angela,” one of the older children says, “trapped as we are, we have survived. Does that not count for something?”

      “Not if the Right of Annulment is involved; we will all be destroyed.”

      “Then let us not waste time,” Hanzo says. “Our plan was to get mages, correct? Let us clear this tower and be done with it.”

      “First, we need to know exactly what happened here,” Jesse says. “All Greagoir would say is that the situation was dire.”

      Angela sighs. “We had something of a revolt on our hands; a group of blood mages have unleashed demons into the tower. It’s completely overrun by abominations, and many have perished.” She walks around the curved hallway and draws their attention to a blue force field that blocks the door completely.

      “I have erected a barrier to protect the children. Nothing may come in or out. But if you join me to save the tower, I will dispel it.”

      Jesse looks back at the party, then back at Angela. “We will gladly join you.”

      Hanzo nods, then with a frown: “None of this could have happened had mages not been given this level of freedom.”

      Moira huffs. “On the contrary, _falon:_   had they been allowed to learn how to commune with spirits and resist demons, none of this could have happened.”

      “This is not the time for such discussions,” Lena counters.

      “Of course not,” Moira says airily. “What is that human expression about kicking folks when they are down? Let us be on our way then; I am rather eager to see how these little Fereldan magi have failed spectacularly at blood magic.”

      Angela shoots her a filthy look, but she quickly turns her back to face her barrier. “Be on your guard,” she says as she dispels it. Once it has disappeared completely, the five of them enter through the doorway. It leads to a large open area with lots of stone and pillars. Angela leads them quickly passed it into a large library. On a long low table sit many books, and behind that table stands what looks like it was once a mage, but skin has stretched and greyed and swelled up into a hideously bulbous manner.

      Angela wastes no time; she blasts it immediately with an orb of blue magic. The creature falls backwards and lands on its back. Before they can all enter the library proper to finish it off, another creature exactly like it rounds the corner and charges them. Jesse kills it quickly with swift dagger work.

      “Kick it away!” Angela cries. Jesse obeys, kicking the falling creature hard in the chest. It falls back into the library and explodes loudly in a plume of fire. The explosion catches the other one, and it too dies and explodes.

      “Those are abominations,” she says sadly.

      Jesse freezes. “As in, any mage possessed by demons?”

      “No. Only those that give themselves completely to the demon that possesses them. Or those that die while possessed.”

      Jesse looks at the dark burn marks on the stone floor where the abominations exploded, and he thinks of Fareeha; he can’t allow that to happen.

      “Let’s get movin’,” he says quickly. Angela nods and leads them through the rest of the library, which is divided into three sections. They find nothing in the second part, but in the third section, more abominations wait, but this time with them is a being that looks entirely made up of magma.

      “Take the abominations!” Angela orders. “I’ll deal with the rage demon.”

      Jesse assumes she’s referring to the magma monster. The four of them take out the abominations, steering clear of their exploding corpses, while Angela casts ice-based spells. Her ice magic looks very simple compared to Lúcio’s, given that he can summon a snowstorm, but it does the job.

      They fight through the entire first floor, encountering nothing but rage demons and abominations.

      They reach a short staircase that leads to an arched and pointed door. Angela walks through it and they follow her through.

      “These are the apprentice chambers,” she whispers. “We should approach any survivors carefully in case they are blood mages.”

      No sooner had she finished speaking they hear frantic whispers and hisses. The five of them approach carefully and slowly. Right in front of the doorway are decorative stone arches with metal sculptures in them. Through the gaps in the sculpture, Jesse spots three mages huddled and whispering. They wear the same style of robes as Angela, but a pale blue instead of her deep red.

      He catches Lena’s eye, and she offers him a nod. The two of them carefully walk around the decorative arches and make themselves known in as non-threatening a manner they can manage.

      One of the mages screams as she spots them, and she quickly cuts her hand and shoots a large amount of lightning and electricity at them. Jesse and Lena duck behind the archway.

      Another mage rounds the corner, and he’s quickly met with an arrow in his throat. He drops to the ground gurgling, and as he dies, a circle of light surrounds him. Intricate glyphs of light appear within the circle, and right in front of them, the dead man rises.

      Lena and Jesse are stuck right next to him. Hanzo shoots another arrow into his throat, but he doesn’t fall. Instead, he shoots a bolt of lightning directly at Hanzo. He, Angela and Moira all duck behind the arched opening, avoiding the dead mage’s spell.

      Jesse quickly jabs a dagger through the creature’s heart, but it doesn’t fall. He pulls out and stabs again, but still nothing. The creature grabs his face with cold clammy hands, and Jesse is frozen on the spot. He can’t react, can’t think, can’t see beyond eyes that have paled too quickly and skin that is already cold.

      A blast of magical energy shoots the dead mage backwards and clean off his feet. Lena pulls Jesse away from the corner of the archway, and Hanzo, Moira and Angela charge forward to deal with the remaining two mages. They fall quickly, and when Jesse goes around to re-join them, a frail voice from the floor catches his ears.

      “Please, please don’t kill me.”

      Moira laughs. “I am certain those that have died here wished to be spared as well.”

      The mage on the floor is young and tall and lies on her side with an arrow in her belly. She draws in a ragged breath as she pushes herself more upright. “You don’t know what it’s like. To live under templars, under people trained to kill you should you show the slightest sign of resisting them. How could you possibly understand why we did what we did?”

      “There are other ways,” Angela says coldly. “Resorting to blood magic is _never_ the answer.”

      “Let us kill her quickly then,” Hanzo says. No one else seems willing, so Jesse hands him his dagger, and Lena says a short prayer under her breath.

      When the blood mage no longer breathes, they leave her and inspect the rest of the large room. It looks to be a public space for recreation.

      “This place is _setheneran,”_   Moira murmurs with her nose in the air and an inquisitive look on her face. At everyone else’s silence, she adds: “the Veil is thin here. Tis no wonder demons made their way into this realm so easily.”

      “Of course the Veil is thin in the Circle tower,” Angela grouses. “There are hundreds of mages practicing magic every day!”

      “And they are still not taught to commune with creatures of the Beyond? Tch! _Dirthara-ma,_   old woman.”

      “Oh, look!” Lena cries, “there’s the doorway to the rest of this level! Shall we?”

      Angela stares at Moira distastefully for a bit longer, then nods and follows Lena. Jesse gives Moira a quick shrug before following; he’s a lot more inclined to support Moira’s views on learning magic (even though she’s a blood mage), given how Fereldans imprison their mages.

      They move through the second level swiftly; they check each of the assigned rooms for survivors and find nothing but abominations and rage demons.

      Except for one survivor hiding in a chest. He’s incredibly reluctant to join them, so they leave him to go back into hiding. It gives them hope for other mages.

      They quickly clear the second floor and move onto the third. It’s very similar to the second level; large halls and dormitories with animated corpses, abominations and rage demons.

      As awful as he feels thinking it, Jesse wishes Lúcio were here. Angela is obviously a very skilled and capable mage, but her healing magic is purely physical, whereas Lúcio’s healing magic leaves him feeling energised and happy. Not to mention Lúcio’s specialised abilities in ice magic would help greatly against all these rage demons.

      As it is, he’s grateful that his young friend is away from danger. And especially grateful when they come across a group of possessed templars that charge them. With their armour and their ability to supress magic, they are a lot harder to deal with than skeletons and abominations.

      Once they clear the dormitories of blood mages and possessed templars, they move further into the tower and enter a circular hall area with a large statue in the middle. The statue is covered in bulbous pieces of what appears to be flesh. To Jesse, it looks a lot like the kind of deposits one would find in a darkspawn lair. They pass the statue and move onto the fourth floor, where they find more statues covered in fleshy sacs, these ones with long and thin metallic protrusions like sword blades.

      Again, the party checks every room for survivors, and again, they find nothing but more possessed templars.

      They stumble into the main recreation area on the fourth floor and find another abomination standing over a dead mage. Before they can attack, the creature speaks to them.

      “Visitors,” it says in a deep and muffled voice. “I’d entertain you, but… too much effort.”

      “Good,” Hanzo growls, “that means you will be that much easier to kill.”

      “But why?” the creature asks. “Aren’t you tired of all the violence in this world? I know I am.”

      Jesse doesn’t understand how, or why, but he’s feeling inclined to agree. And he’s suddenly feeling drowsy. The abomination continues talking:

      “Wouldn’t you like to just lay down? And forget all this?”

      “No,” Hanzo yawns. “We must… stand and fight…”

      “Resist!” Angela orders, but she sounds half asleep already. “We must resist, else we are… all lost…”

      “Why do you fight? You deserve a rest. The world will go on without you.”

      The last thing Jesse sees before his vision goes to black is the face of the abomination; one of its eyes is covered by misshapen flesh, but the uncovered one looks right at him. And it leaves him feeling peaceful.

      He doesn’t even remember hitting the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love throwing in Elvish words with Moira's speech? XD
> 
> _Setheneran_ = Land of walking dreams (i.e. a place where [the Veil](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Veil) is thin)  
>  _Dirthara-ma_ = May you learn. Legit Solas' best line in DA:I hahaha! Used as a curse/warning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holiday season, everyone :p Stay safe and well <333
> 
> SO. [Lost In Dreams](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/The_Fade%3A_Lost_in_Dreams) is my **least favourite mission across the entire damn series.** Hence, I removed all the annoying parts because there was no way I was going to relive that nonsense lol. But sadly because of that choice, it is not made apparent how many souls have been trapped in the sloth demon's domain. Suffice to say, it's a very large number of tortured souls trapped in there :(
> 
> Moving on: there's a short section from Hanzo's perspective, which means I _had_ to use lots of qunlat lmao. Translations and such will be in the End Notes for those who would like them :)
> 
>  **Content Warning:**  
>  \- Demonic possession  
> \- Stuck in a dream world  
> \- Brief fight scenes

Jesse wakes up in Ostagar fortress. But that can’t be right; he feels that the battle here has already happened. But here he is, on the Imperial Highway that turns into the bridge that leads into Ostagar. He is completely alone, which actually doesn’t feel too out of the ordinary. He strolls along the bridge and towards the fortress.

      He spots a figure waiting for him, and as he gets closer, he recognises Gabriel.

      His heart leaps – it feels like it’s been an age since he’s seen the man, though he’s not sure why. Without bothering to think too much of it, he walks up to Gabriel with a smile.

      “Jesse! I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

      “What?” Jesse squeaks. “Never!”

      “Good, good. I just wanted to make sure you were happy here at Weisshaupt.”

      “…Weisshaupt? As in, the Grey Warden headquarters?”

      “Yes, I thought it was time you saw it.”

      Jesse looks around. It looks very Tevinter like Ostagar, rather than Anderfelian, but he’s not bothered by it. It makes a weird sort of sense.

      Or does it? Why are they in the Anderfels, when the darkspawn horde was amassing in Ferelden?

      He voices this concern with Gabriel, who looks at him with a confused smile.

      “The darkspawn are all gone, remember? The great battle that we won? Or, how about when we brought down the archdemon? Surely you remember that?”

      He doesn’t, and a small part of him desperately wants it to be true, but his gut tells him something is very wrong.

      “Gabriel,” he says, deliberately slow and careful, “we didn’t win any major battles against the darkspawn.”

      “Don’t be foolish,” he snaps. That’s when Jesse knows that this isn’t Gabriel at all – he would never address him so harshly. “Why can you not be content with the peace I offer you?”

      He looks at the man in front of him, and the more he looks, the less he looks like Gabriel – eyes too pale, scars too fine, facial hair looks coarse instead of well-groomed and soft.

      His heart hurts. He wants so desperately for Gabriel to be in front of him again. But his gut tells him that something is very wrong here, and that he can’t stay for long.

      Though it pains him, he offers a cutting retort: “You offer complacency, not peace.”

      Gabriel looks at him with disgust, and it hurts, until he reminds himself that this isn’t Gabriel at all. And he begins to hurt in a different way.

      “It seems,” the creature with Gabriel’s face growls, “that you will only be content with war and despair. Then have it – may it be your doom!”

      Gabriel turns into a wraith; his skin greys, his armour becomes discoloured, and his eyes turn red. He then charges Jesse.

 _It’s not Gabriel,_ he tells himself as he cuts the creature down.

 _It’s not really him,_ he thinks as the creature shrieks.

      When it dies and dissipates into nothing, Jesse allows himself a moment to gather himself. When he finally calms his breathing, and he is able to think clearly again, he thinks hard on how he got here:

_After Ostagar, we went to Lothering. We met Lena and Hanzo and Genji. Then we went to Redcliffe. And then… the Circle tower. So then how did I end up in Weisshaupt with a demon?_

      He gets up and looks around, and it’s then that he notices how hazy his vision is; it’s as if he’s looking through tears, like there’s water at the edges of his vision.

      He walks the perimeter quickly, and finds he’s stuck in a fishbowl; there’s no way to walk in or out of here. He looks for doors, for pathways, for anything, but all he sees is a glowing pedestal. Its glow is gentle and blue, and when Jesse touches it, everything around him disappears suddenly and is quickly replaced with different scenery.

      “What in the Maker’s name…?”

      He looks around. Hills and mounds, sharp and thick blades of black grass, everything with a yellowish tinge and the same watery haze.

      And then he spots him; a man in Circle mage’s robes. He has pale skin, shoulder-length black hair, and dark stubble. Jesse approaches him carefully.

      “Who are you?” the young man asks. “Are you another demon?”

      Jesse blinks, incredulous.

      “No, I guess you aren’t. In that case, good work for escaping the trap.”

      “Trap?” Jesse asks cautiously.

      “Yes. We’re stuck in a dream.” He gestures around him. “This is the Fade. The sloth demon has us trapped here, in dreams that it expects we can’t, or won’t want to leave.”

      That would explain why he was at Weisshaupt with Gabriel. “I see. And how did you get here?”

      “By trying to save the Circle. I expect we both met the sloth demon in the same manner.”

      Jesse remembers the body he saw at the feet of the abomination.

      “You… you’re dead?”

      “I suspect so. My spirit has been separated from my body for too long. And I was so close, too.”

      “Close to saving the Circle?”

      “Yes. Mages can protect themselves from blood magic and demonic possession with the Litany of Adralla. I had it in my hand, and I was going to confront the mages at the top of the tower. They were holding the first enchanter hostage. But it’s all too late now.”

      “Maybe not,” Jesse says with a smile. He looks around. “Surely there’s a way out?”

      “You’d think so,” the mage sighs, “but you’d be wrong. That pedestal is the only way to travel to different areas of the sloth demon’s domain, and no matter how hard I read the runes, I can’t make any sense of how to use it.”

      Jesse looks back at the pedestal, then back to the young mage. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

      The man just shrugs, then looks at the pedestal expectantly. Jesse walks over to it.

      He stands by it and places a gentle hand on it. He’s not sure why, but he thinks of Hanzo. Perhaps because he’s so mistrustful of magic, and here he is, trapped in the Fade. He must be so uncomfortable and confused. He thinks of those dark, intelligent eyes, and that deep, raspy voice, and how desperately he wants to be friends with the man, and how Jesse keeps managing to offend or upset him.

      The last thing he thinks of as the Fade around him disappears is Hanzo.

 

~~~~~~

 

Hanzo wakes in an open area with short mounds of dirt and what appears to be tall grass. Although, on closer inspection, it looks like something dead, or supernatural. So, not grass, then.

      He looks around, noticing that his vision is slightly hazy. _Why would that be?_

      Then he remembers everything; Genji, the Beresaad and their mission in Ferelden, the blood on his hands, Lothering, Redcliffe, and then the Circle tower, where that _imesaar-bas_ had put them into its dream world.

      So, he is dreaming then.

      He grabs at his chest, feeling for a bowstring, and that’s when he feels it – Stormbow, his precious weapon that he had lost when he killed his squadron. He pulls the bow off his body and holds it, staring incredulously. His paint is as blue and vibrant as ever, with the bandages for grip worn but still in one piece.

      He could cry. How cruel that this piece of his soul only comes back to him in a dream such as this. And what he wouldn’t give to have Stormbow safe in his hands again.

      “Sten,” a voice calls to him. He turns and spots two of his _karashok._ They are both dressed for battle, with leather pauldrons and _kataar_ painted on their bared torsos. He knows that he had killed the both of them when they threatened to cut Genji’s tongue out themselves. But he suspects in this dream land, that never happened.

      He replaces Stormbow across his chest, then sits with his soldiers and chats. They talk of their mission in Ferelden, of the _arishok_ and the _antaam,_ of the merits of Par Vollen versus Seheron.

      They begin discussing what to cook when he hears quiet footsteps approaching.

      “Hanzo?”

      He turns upon hearing such a familiar voice, and one that he has indeed grown fond of.

 _“Shanedan,_ Jesse,” he says warmly as he stands to greet the other man.

      “Who do you speak to?” one of the _karashok_ asks.

      “Do not bother the Sten,” the other hisses. “Now go and cook for us.”

      “Cook what? There is no food here!”

 _“Parshaara!”_ Hanzo barks. “We have an esteemed guest! Make room at the campfire.”

      Jesse looks up at him with surprise. It makes him feel guilty; he imagines Jesse thinks that Hanzo dislikes him personally, but that couldn’t be further from the truth – he dislikes how compelled Jesse feels to help everyone around him when his sole focus as a Grey Warden should be the Blight. But for a human, Jesse is incredibly likeable.

      “Hanzo,” Jesse comes closer and whispers, “none of this is real.”

      Hanzo nods. “I know.”

      “You… you already know?”

      “Yes. I killed these men, remember?”

      “And you are forgiven, _kadan.”_

      Hanzo gestures to the _karashok_ who spoke up. “It is only a dream, but it is a good one.”

      “You don’t wish to stay here, do you?” Jesse looks up at him with concern.

      He thinks hard on that. _No, not forever. Just a bit longer._ It isn’t often he has pleasant dreams, so he feels very reluctant to leave this one.

      But he has been vocally unsupportive of Jesse wasting time. It would be incredibly hypocritical of him to drag his feet here. Resigned, he lets out a tired grunt. “No, I suppose I do not.”

      Both _karashok_ stand. “You cannot abandon your post!” one of them growls.

      “Stand down,” Hanzo orders. “I would hate to see you both die again.”

      They draw their swords. “We will not let you leave us!”

      Before they can take a step forward, Hanzo has Stormbow in one hand, and his specialised arrows in his other. He fires at them rapidly, aiming for stomach and chest. Jesse is already in there, cutting and slicing with his daggers.

      After a short fight, both qunari are dead before them. He looks at his hands, which are spotless. _I suppose spirits of this realm do not bleed as we do._ When he had first killed his _karashok,_ there had been much blood. Both his and theirs. And it had been everywhere – even in his ears. He remembers cleaning the blood off him in that cage in Lothering, wondering how blood could travel so far.

      Jesse’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “Are you ok, Hanzo?”

      He is very far from ok at the moment, but he can deal with that later. Right now they need to escape this dream world. He pushes his to the side and clears his throat. “I am… as well as I am going to be. Let us be on our way.”

      Jesse looks at him with disbelief, but he doesn’t push the subject. He nods and leads them out of the main clearing.

      “Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo blurts out, “for coming to get me.”

      He’s not sure if he’s seeing things because of the way his vision is obscured by being in this realm, but he swears Jesse’s ears turned red.

      “Any time,” he says a little too quickly. He stops at a pedestal and looks at Hanzo expectantly. It looks like a simple thing, but underneath it, a pale circle of light with symbols shines brightly.

      “This will teleport us around this realm.”

      “The both of us?” Hanzo asks sceptically.

      “It’s how I got here. All we have to do is touch it. Now I don’t know if it’ll work if we both place a hand on there, but it might work if we, uh… if _we’re_ touching…?”

      Hanzo places a quick hand on Jesse’s shoulder to avoid doing anything rash and silly like grabbing for his hand. Jesse nods and touches the pedestal. The simple hills and ugly grass are gone in an instant, replaced with bigger hills and taller ugly grasses.

      Hanzo starts – that experience was incredibly disorienting.

      “Are you well?” Jesse asks, placing a careful hand on Hanzo’s… which he realises is still firmly attached to Jesse’s shoulder.

      “Yes, that was just… very fast.”

      Jesse nods, then looks around them. “It looks like we’re back in the main safe area.”

      “The what?”

      “This is where I came when I broke out of my trap. There’s a Circle mage stuck here.”

      And right on cue, a young man in the Circle’s robes runs up to them. He looks at Jesse with an incredulous smile. “You… you did it! You saved another dreamer!” He looks around him. “The weight in the air is lighter. Keep doing whatever it is that you did!”

      The mage leaves them at the pedestal. Hanzo whispers to Jesse: “How _did_ you come to find me?”

      “I don’t know. I just… thought of you. An’ then I touched the pedestal.”

      Hanzo ignores the way his stomach flutters and keeps his mind focussed. “So… we just think of someone, and it should take us to them?”

      “I suppose.”

      “Then we should think of Angela. She is a mage that knows this realm well. Let us get her.”

 

~~~~~~

 

Moira wakes in the Beyond. She knows it’s the Beyond, despite the many years it has been since she last saw it. Who could forget that hazy appearance and that slight tinge of yellow? And of course, those hills and grasses.

      A woman walks up to her. She immediately recognises _asha’bellanar_ – the woman of many years. When she lived with the Mahariel clan in Ferelden’s Brecilian Forest, they spoke extensively of her, and Moira had actually met her once in the Korcari Wilds; that was how she had inherited her hut.

      The woman begins speaking to her, but Moira interrupts:

      “I know you are but a spirit of the Beyond, creature,” she says quickly and dismissively. “Do not waste my time with talk.”

      The spirit tries to convince her with talk and pleadings, but Moira will have none of it. She attacks first, fighting it with death and entropy magic. When it dies, she explores the small area and spots a pedestal almost immediately. Even without the obvious glowing glyph underneath it, she can feel the magical energy coming off it.

      Just by looking at the runes and symbols on it, she would guess that it allows access to other dream traps such as hers. It makes her wonder how the others are being held: Jesse will probably be with fellow Wardens, and the qunari with his dead squadron. She doesn’t find either of those appealing.

      Her mind wanders to Lena, and what her trap in the Beyond would look like.

      Thinking of Lena, she places her palm on the pedestal.

      Her surroundings disappear and reappear; she is surrounded by the same hills and grasses, but they’re placed differently.

      She hears whispering and follows the sound. And that’s where she spots Lena – kneeling beside a Revered Mother and praying.

      Moira groans, rolls her eyes, then heads toward her trapped companion.

      “Blessed art thou who exists in the sight of the Maker,” Lena recites. Moira clears her throat noisily.

      Lena looks up. “Who are you?”

      “I have no time for games, _da’len,”_ she grumbles, “let us be on our way.”

      The Revered Mother steps in. “I beg you, do not disturb the girl’s meditation.”

      Lena rises. “Revered Mother,” she says, sounding concerned, “I don’t know this person.”

      “That is because the Beyond plays tricks with your mind.”

      “I… I don’t know what you mean?” Lena looks back to her priestess for comfort.

      “Please do not upset her. She needs quiet and solitude to heal her mind and heart.”

      “Silent, creature. I need not your input.”

      “Don’t talk to her like that!” Lena cries. “Now I don’t know who you are, or what it is you’re after, but I am very happy here. I don’t need you to take me away.”

      Moira rubs her temples; she will have to be _nice_ if this fool is ever to escape the clutches of the demon that trapped them here.

      “Lena, do you not remember leaving the cloister?”

      “I did, but I still pray and observe-”

      “Do you remember why you left?”

      “I… yes. Because I had a vision.”

      Moira watches the realisation come to her.

      “I had a vision, and I came with you and the Grey Wardens to help.”

      “Dear girl,” the Revered Mother says tiredly, “we have talked about this ‘vision’ of yours. The Maker does not deign to interfere with the lives of mortals.”

      “The Maker cares for us. And even if my vision isn’t from Him, it helps guide me.” Lena folds her arms. “My revered mother knew this. So whomever you are, you aren’t her.”

      Moira could dance with excitement. Instead, she remains refined and professional. “Let us leave, then.”

      The Beyond spirit tries a different tact. “This is your refuge. If you stay here, you’ll know peace.”

      Lena gives the creature a sarcastic smile. “No need; I carry the peace of the Chantry in my heart.”

      The Beyond spirit’s voice changes into a hissing, rattling growl. “You are going nowhere, girl. I will not permit it! You are ours!”

      The creature reveals its true form; a greater shade. Moira and Lena fight it off together and kill it quickly.

      “Holy Maker! She was a… she wasn’t… ugh. My head feels heavy.”

      Moira allows her a moment before she leads her to the pedestal.

      “What’s that?”

      “Our way out. Let us see if the others are freed too.” She holds out her hand, and Lena takes it quickly.

      “We need to make sure our guide is free.” And with that, she thinks of the senior Circle mage, and places her palm on the pedestal.

 

~~~~~~

 

Hanzo appears suddenly in a new part of the Fade. It doesn’t feel any less disorienting than the first time. He sees Jesse look at him with concern, and he just shakes his head shortly in reply.

      “Oh, Jesse! Hanzo!”

      Lena and Moira have appeared suddenly right beside them.

      “It appears we are all here for the Circle mage,” Moira drawls.

      “Looks like,” Jesse replies.

      They spot Angela surrounded by dead bodies, each of them dressed in the robes of Circle mages. Jesse leads the party towards her, approaching slowly.

      “Maker forgive me,” she whispers, “I failed them all.”

      “Angela!” Lena calls.

      She doesn’t look up. “They died and I did not stop it.”

      “Angela, it’s not real, love.”

      “How can I disbelieve what is right in front of me? What I see, and hear, and feel?”

      “Pull yourself together, woman,” Moira snaps. “You are a mage, and you know we are in the Beyond.”

      Angela doesn’t appear to have heard her. “Why was I spared if not to help them?”

      “Spared from what?” Hanzo asks. He steps forward, so that she can’t ignore him.

      She still won’t look at him. “What use is my life now that I have failed in the task that was given me? If you do not wish to grieve, then leave me as I do.”

      “I find it impossible to grieve for Fade spirits,” Hanzo says bluntly.

      Now that gets her attention. “Your blatant disregard for the souls of the dead-”

      “They are not dead. We can save them yet if you would just listen.”

      “Angela, love,” Lena says, stepping in front of Hanzo. “Try and remember how you got here. Try to remember what it is we were doing before we got here.”

      Angela looks at all of them bitterly. “I do not know what this is meant to accomplish, but I will think on it if it will satisfy you.”

      She closes her eyes with an annoyed sigh, and her brow furrows considerably. “It is… difficult to focus. It feels as though something is stopping me from concentrating.” She gives in: “Perhaps some time away from this place will clear my mind.”

      One of the bodies rises from the ground. “Please don’t leave us here, Angela!” it cries.

      “Dear Maker!” she gasps, moving away from the bodies and closer to the party.

      Another rises, approaching her. “We don’t want to be alone here, Angela.”

      “Stay away, foul creature!”

      The third rises. “Angela, come to your rest.”

      Hanzo has enough of this; he fires an arrow at one of the Fade creatures. It barely reacts, and starts to cast a glyph around itself. Angela hits it with a blast of blue magic, and the glyph disappears.

      He focusses his fire on the fallen creature, while the other three focus on the other two. When he and Angela take their Fade creature out, Hanzo turns to Moira, who he knows has weak combat magic. He helps her kill the Fade creature with a few arrows, and by the time it is dead, the third one has died also.

      Angela sits, a hand over her heart. Hanzo leaves Lena and Jesse to comfort her. And he outright avoids Moira; he struggles to trust mages as it is, given his upbringing under the Qun, but a blood mage that finds amusement in the misfortune of others? No, thank you.

      After a short while, Jesse calls him and Moira over. Angela looks ready to fight again.

      “Our next destination must be the demon’s inner sanctum.”

      “The inner sanctum?” Jesse asks.

      “That is how demons in the Fade operate; they hide away in a sanctum to make it difficult to be confronted. But I suspect together, we can find it and fight it.” She looks to the pedestal. “I suspect you all have learned how to move around this demon’s prison.”

      “More or less,” Moira drawls.

      Angela nods resolutely. “Let us confront this creature, then.”

      Once at the pedestal, they all join hands, think of the demon, then reappear abruptly in a new part of the Fade; lumpy hills, and instead of the black grasses, there are structures of stone, twisted and spiked, pointing upwards. His vision is still hazy, but he thinks he sees a figure in the distance.

      “There it is,” Jesse says, pointing exactly where Hanzo is looking. The five of them approach, stepping carefully on the bumpy and uneven footing.

      As they get closer, Hanzo takes in the details of the demon; it is tall and slender, and wears ornate skirting and armour coloured in red and gold. A bright red sash goes from shoulder to hip over its exposed torso of pink and shrunken flesh. An enchanted cowl of some sort sits over its shoulders in points, then drapes down behind it in tatters. Its helmet is long and tall and thin, completely covering the creature’s eyes but leaving its skull-like face and teeth exposed.

      “What do we have here?” it asks in its deep and distorted voice. “A rebellion?” It lets out a guttural laugh, shoulders shaking as its head sways. “Playtime is over. You all have to go back to where you woke.”

      The creature’s mouth doesn’t open once as it speaks, and it unsettles Hanzo more than he would care to admit. Not to mention how irritatingly slowly it speaks. Despite that, he talks back to it. “I have had enough of cages.”

      “You tried to keep us apart,” Lena taunts, “because together, we frighten you.”

      “And you made a dangerous enemy, toying with my mind.” Moira growls.

      It snuffles, and a deep rumbling comes from its throat. It tilts his head in what Hanzo imagines is a quizzical manner. “If you go back quietly, I can change your sanctum. I can make you much, much happier.”

      “I think we’re good to find our own happiness.” Jesse says as he folds his arms.

      “You will hold us no longer, demon,” Angela says in her soft but threatening voice. “You cannot stand against all of us.”

      “You wish to battle _me?”_ it snarls. “So be it. You will learn to bow to your betters.”

      The creature is engulfed in a bright yellow light, and it grows taller and bulkier, taking on the shape of a large creature with thick twisted horns.

      “Ogre!” Jesse cries. The creature steps back, places a hand on the ground, then snorts loudly, ready to charge. Everyone dives out of the way quickly.

      Angela paralyses it with a spell, and Moira drains its life force with her death magic. Hanzo and Lena fill it with arrows while Jesse dances around it, giving it the occasional cut with his daggers.

      They wear the creature down, and it finally falls to its knees, but when its body hits the ground, it is again consumed in a bright yellow light, and from it emerges a huge rage demon, bigger than any of the ones they fought in the Circle tower.

 _“Hatred,”_ the sloth demon’s voice rumbles, as if coming from all around them. _“Your burning hatred feeds me.”_

      Angela immediately hits it with a blast of ice magic. The demon roars, voice impossibly deep. It turns to face Angela, and it pushes its way towards her, like an oversized slug with arms. But it moves slowly and laboriously – Hanzo suspects the ice magic has a very strong effect on it. It dies quickly, but again, it’s engulfed in yellow light, and it then takes the form of a Shade.

_“I command the shadows of your darkest dreams.”_

      Hanzo loses his patience. He grabs three arrows from his quiver, holding them between his fingers. He fires them in rapid succession.

      “How many times must we kill you, _bas?!”_ he snarls, grabbing three more arrows and firing them where the creature’s arm meets its body – it’s the closest thing to a neck it has.

      It doesn’t go down easily – even with all of their combined weaponry, it takes a lot of damage. The demon finally lets out a defeated shriek and collapses onto the ground. But again, it’s consumed by a bright light and it takes yet another form, this time, back to its initial form with the red and gold robes.

_“No more games! Now you all die!”_

      It faces Hanzo directly and extends both hands out at him. He feels his whole body stiffen and freeze; he can’t move a muscle. And while he is stuck paralysed, he feels sharp pains stabbing all across his body. They repeat, over and over, almost rhythmically, while he’s immobile and trapped.

      He can do nothing but watch as it blasts Moira with ice magic, as it swipes Jesse across the face, and as it surrounds Angela and Lena with electricity, causing them both to shudder and convulse.

      He feels the spell holding him growing weaker, and he readies his mind for his next move. When he is finally free, he charges the creature, landing a solid punch and sending its frail body backwards and onto the floor.

      While it’s still hunched and recovering, Jesse hacks it quickly with both daggers. It rises, then faces him with both hands out, as it had with Hanzo before.

      There’s not a chance he’s letting it trap Jesse as it had him earlier; before it completes its spell, Hanzo punches it again, throwing all of his weight behind his blow. The creature drops flat with a muffled growl, and it doesn’t get back up. He waits for another form to arise, but none appear. He looks around to the others, who seemed to have shared his sentiments.

      “Is it… properly dead?” Lena asks hesitantly.

      Jesse nudges it carefully with his foot. It doesn’t stir. “Looks like,” he pants.

      He breathes out a heavy sigh; that was a tough battle. “Good. Now we must return to the Circle.” He looks back to the pedestal, but it’s gone. Instead, a young man stands there, looking dazed and terribly confused. He recognises the Circle mage that he and Jesse had spoken to before.

      The rest of the party spot him too, and Angela whispers “oh, Niall.”

      The mage (Niall, apparently) spots Angela and smiles widely. “You did it! You defeated the demon!”

      “Twas a group effort,” Moira huffs. Her mismatched eyes are locked on to him fiercely. Hanzo guesses that she hadn’t met him in the safe area and must suspect he’s another Fade creature.

      As if he were completely oblivious to Moira, the mage keeps speaking. “I never thought… I never expected to be free again.” His smile fades, and he addresses Angela again: “When you return to the tower, take the Litany of Adralla from my… from my body. It should protect you from the worst of the blood magic.”

      “Niall,” Angela whispers. “Niall, I am so sorry.”

      “It’s ok, Angela. Please, just finish what I started. Confront the blood mages at the top of the tower. Put an end to their tyranny.”

      “Wait,” Lena says slowly, “you’re a Circle mage?”

      “I was,” Niall replies sadly.

      “Then surely you can leave with us? We can’t just leave you here,” Lena pleads.

      “I have no body to return to,” Niall says sadly. “I do not fear what may come. They say we return to the Maker in death. That is not such a terrible thought.” He bows his head momentarily, then looks back up at all of them. “Farewell, my friends.”

      The world around them begins to waver, and the haziness of Hanzo’s vision becomes worse and worse, until he sees nothing at all.

 

~~~~~~

 

      Jesse feels his eyes open, and he finds himself looking up at a very high and decorative ceiling. He sits up slowly, and as he does, so too do his companions.

      The first face he seeks out is Hanzo’s; he also looks around before resting his eyes on Jesse’s face. He smiles – actually smiles – at Jesse, and his heart speeds up ridiculously. That look of relief and happiness on his face makes him actually glow, and Jesse wishes he could see that expression more often on him.

 _“Anaan!”_ Hanzo barks. “We are triumphant!” He springs up and walks over to Jesse to give him a hand up. Lena and Moira stand on their own, and Hanzo helps Angela stand.

      She walks straight to Niall’s body and picks up a scroll. “Maker watch over you, Niall,” she whispers.

      They leave the circular room and carry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ##### Qunlat notes:
> 
>  _'Imesaar-bas'_ was the closest thing I could find on the Wiki page that translated to 'abomination,' especially since the word 'bas' often gets used when referring to mages or magic.  
>  _Kataar_ = that war paint Qunari use  
>  _Karashok_ = like a private; an infantry soldier of lower status than the Sten  
>  _Shanedan_ = a respectful greeting  
>  _Arishok_ \- for those who haven't played DA:II, the _arishok_ is the leader of the qunari army (a.k.a. the _antaam_ )  
>  _Anaan!_ = Victory!
> 
>  
> 
> And a brief note on _asha'bellanar;_ that's what the Dalish call [Flemeth](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Flemeth) lol


End file.
